Sharing Sleep
by TMBlue
Summary: Missing moments: All of the times that Ron and Hermione fell asleep together, from book 1 to book 7.
1. Sacrifice

**Sharing Sleep**

**Chapter 1 - Sacrifice**

"Ron?" Hermione whispered as she leaned over his still form which now resided in a bed in the hospital wing.

It hadn't been very long since they had returned from beneath the trap door on the third floor, but Ron still hadn't woken up and Hermione was so worried she could hardly stand it. What if he died?! Her eyes welled up with tears just thinking about it. She had never known anyone to die before, and Ron... well, for some unexplainable reason that transcended their friendship, she felt that she wouldn't be able to handle it if he left her. She shook her head. He wouldn't be leaving _her _if he died, she rationalized. It wasn't as if he belonged to her...

"Ron..." Hermione tried again, moving her face a few inches closer to his as she leaned even further over the bed. She paused as if hoping for a reply from him this time, but when none came, she sighed and sat down in the chair at his bedside. "Look," she began again as she stared at his completely still form. "I know you thought you were doing something really brave back there, sacrificing yourself so Harry could go on... and yeah, you _were _brave... but Ron, honestly." Hermione sighed again. "Was there really no other way? I seriously thought you were..."

She stiffened up a bit and tried to blink back the tears that were threatening the corners of her eyes as she thought about how she had been terrified that Ron would die when he told them what he was about to do on the chess board. Then, she had been terrified again to see him lying there motionless on the floor after it had happened.

"The point is, that was really dumb of you. If you had died, how do you think I would have felt about it?" Hermione sniffed and glared at Ron's motionless face. "And Harry too," she added hastily. "Do you think no one would really mind very much if you snuffed it down there? Well I would have!" Hermione's foot stomped slightly at her last words and she sighed again. "Just... think about that, will you?"

Hermione knew she was being a little silly. It was ridiculous, for one thing, to be lecturing an unconscious person, and on top of all of that, what Ron had done really was about the bravest thing Hermione had ever heard of, and she knew that he had done the right thing. He had saved them both.

"Maybe you saved us. Maybe you did help Harry to stop You-Know-Who from coming back..." Hermione glanced over her shoulder at Harry where he slept in the bed next to Ron's. "But... well, I just didn't like it, okay? So next time try thinking a bit more about what you're doing before you just go off and do it. And maybe you should check with me first, you know! I am your friend..."

Hermione sighed again and looked away from Ron. Even though he couldn't hear her, she felt her face heat up with embarrassment at her words.

"Okay, fine. You did the right thing, okay?" Hermione said as if Ron had actually been arguing with her this whole time. "But that doesn't mean I'm happy about it."

Hermione fell silent and scooted forward slightly in her chair towards Ron's bed.

"Ron?" she whispered again after a moment, her voice barely audible. "Please wake up." Her eyes filled with tears again and she blinked them back, wiping slightly at the edges of her eyes with the back of her hand. And then she leaned forward and laid her head down slowly on the side of Ron's mattress, her face still turned towards his face. She tucked her arms under her head as a pillow and sighed again. "Wake up, okay?" she said as her eyes fluttered shut. "I'm not leaving until you do."

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Two hours later, Ron's eyes cracked open and he blinked several times, trying to remember where he was. But then he remembered everything: the chess board, falling off the knight, Hermione telling him not to do it, his assurances that it was the only way for Harry to go on... and now he was in the hospital wing. But... what had happened to Hermione and Harry?

"Hermione!" he said suddenly in a hoarse voice. "Harry!" Then he felt someone by his side. Hermione's head popped up from where she had been sleeping on the edge of his mattress. "Hermione!" Ron said in alarm when he realized who was beside him.

"Ron! You're awake!"

"Are you okay? Where's Harry? What happened?" Ron asked frantically, sitting up slightly in his bed.

"We're fine," Hermione said, grinning slightly. "Harry's right there." Hermione turned to glance over her shoulder again to the bed next to Ron's where Harry was sleeping soundly.

"Oh. Okay." Ron settled back into his pillow, feeling a bit ill from his panic, but other than that, he wasn't sure why he should even be bothered with staying any longer in the infirmary. "Do you think I can get out of here now? Where's Madame Pomfrey?"

"Ron!" Hermione exclaimed, her eyes wide. "You can't leave the hospital tonight."

"But why not? I feel fine."

"You almost died!" Hermione wailed, her eyes narrowing slightly but watering at the same time.

"I...did?" Ron asked softly. He hadn't exactly realized this after all, having been asleep for all of it.

"Well... yes," Hermione said, blushing slightly. "I mean you could have..."

Ron stared at Hermione for a moment, thinking about what she meant. But his curiosity for what had happened after he had been knocked out was too strong.

"So what happened?" he asked slowly.

"Later," Hermione whispered as she caught sight of Madame Pomfrey heading out of her office. "Madame Pomfrey's coming."

Hermione moved away from Ron's bed and disappeared behind the curtain which surrounded her own bed on the other side of Ron's. Ron watched as Madame Pomfrey disappeared behind the curtain.

"Miss Granger," she began, "what are you doing awake?"

"Oh, I couldn't sleep," Hermione answered, and Ron grinned slightly as he looked down his bed to the spot where Hermione had just been sleeping sounding with her head in her arms on the edge of his mattress.


	2. Petrified

**Chapter 2 - Petrified**

Ron adjusted his school bag on his shoulder, glanced left, then right, his eyes wide. Sure he had left the tower after curfew before, but this was different. Harry was sleeping soundly in his bed in their dormitory, and Ron didn't have the luxury of an invisibility cloak. If he was caught... he shook his head, trying not to think about it. He was focused on reaching his goal tonight and wasn't going to be caught if he was careful. He knew that Filch was preoccupied just now with what was happening to the school. Multiple people had now been petrified, and Filch's cat, Mrs. Norris... Well, the caretaker wasn't likely to be in a good mood if Ron _was_ caught, but if he was very quiet and careful not to pass through any corridors that Filch was likely to be wondering through...

Ron turned a corner at the end of the corridor, then headed down the staircase to the floor below on light feet. But just as he stepped off the last stair, he heard footsteps coming from the corridor to his left. He ducked quickly behind a statue and held his breath. He didn't have enough time to risk running down the corridor to the right to find an empty classroom to hide inside of. He just had to hope that whoever it was would pass by without noticing him hiding in the shadows. Whoever it was, they were much too close... closer, closer... Ron closed his eyes as if hoping that if he couldn't see them, they couldn't see him. But then, to his relief, he heard their footsteps heading up the staircase he had just come down. He let out a slow shaky breath, waited until he could no longer hear them, and moved out from behind the statue, turning left to head down the corridor towards the hospital wing.

He cursed slightly under his breath as he thought about how close that had just been. He wished he had borrowed Harry's invisibility cloak after all. He had decided against it when he had left the dormitory, worried that Harry might catch him coming back in with it and ask questions. It wasn't that he thought Harry would be angry with him. He was sure that if he had simply asked to borrow it, Harry would be nothing more than curious about why Ron needed it, but would let him borrow it just the same. No, Ron was much more worried about the questions Harry would ask him, the curiosity about why Ron needed to borrow the cloak. He blushed slightly just thinking about it, but then reasoned with himself. She was their best friend. Surely Harry would understand. But why, in the middle of the night, was it so important? That's the part Ron didn't want questions about. He wasn't even sure himself why it was so important to see her right at this moment. It just... was...

Finally, he approached the doors at the entrance to the infirmary and pushed them open slowly, trying to make as little sound as possible. He cracked the doors just far enough apart for him to slip through, then pushed them almost all the way shut again. It would be easier for him to make a quick escape with the doors already slightly ajar. There would be no handles to fool with, just a slight pull and he'd be back out into the corridor.

He stared forward through the moonlit room, his eyes landing on the curtains that surrounded the bed he knew Hermione was lying on. Then, quickly, he tiptoed forward until he was standing just outside her curtains. With a glance towards Madame Pomfrey's closed office door, he parted the curtains and slipped through.

As the curtains fell shut behind him, he stared down at Hermione's frozen form in the bed in front of him. It was so strange seeing her this way, her body rigid as if someone had used Petrificus Totalus on her. And yet it was different. And maybe it was just because Ron knew that it was different, but he swore he could see something distant and lost in her expression. And he had been told that she could not hear him, that she was basically just sleeping stiffly.

Ron sat slowly in the chair at her bedside, his eyes never leaving her frozen face.

"Hermione," he whispered as he set his school bag down on her bedside table. "I've been thinking."

He paused and rolled his eyes at his own words.

"Yeah, I know you'd be making a joke about that right now if you were awake..." Ron raised the pitch of his whisper in an imitation of Hermione... "'Try doing some of that thinking in classes and maybe you wouldn't have to copy my notes all the time.' Yeah, yeah."

But then he found himself smiling slightly.

"Is it really ridiculous that I sort of miss you nagging me?"

Ron sighed and reached into his school bag.

"Well," he continued, "speaking of school work, I know how devastated you'll be when you wake up and realize how many assignments and notes and quizzes and tests you have missed, so... well, I thought I'd bring you some of your assignments and stuff so you can catch up when you get better."

Ron pulled out a pile of parchment and shuffled through it, then attempted to stack it neatly on the bedside table next to his bag.

"I even tried taking some notes and copying them out for you. They aren't very good," Ron added with a slight grimace. "Honestly, Hermione, how do you do it? I stared at Binns all through class yesterday, sure that I could find something useful to write down, but my mind refused to cooperate. Those lectures are just not meant to be listened to."

Ron scooted a bit further to the edge of his chair, closer to Hermione's bed.

"You know, you've really gotten to me," Ron whispered after a moment. "I keep hearing everything you'd be saying if you were awake inside my own head. You'd be scolding me for being out of bed after curfew, wouldn't you." Ron paused. "You know, I almost got caught coming down here. I don't think I'd be telling you that if you were awake, but you can't hear a word I'm saying anyway, can you."

He paused again and scooted his chair a bit closer to the bed so his legs bumped the edge of the mattress.

"I... _we _really miss you, Hermione," he said after a moment, "and not just because we need your help studying."

Ron leaned forward over the bed slightly and stared down at Hermione's face.

"Professor Sprout had better hurry up and fix you. It's kind of creepy seeing you like this..."

But Ron smiled slightly as he leaned further over Hermione in the bed. His head was dangerously close to Hermione's stomach now. It would be very easy to just take a nap here... his eyes were burning a bit and he was blinking more often than he had been outside in the corridor. As if on queue, he yawned and had to stifle it with his hand.

"I should get back to bed," he said reasonably, "but... well, whoever it was that almost caught me on my way here was heading up the way I've got to go to get back to the tower. I think I should probably wait it out for a while." Ron nodded as if he had just convinced himself of this and the logic of it prevented him from doing anything else now that he had plotted it out.

His head dropped the last few inches that separated him from Hermione, and he rested the side of his head against the blanket where it covered her stomach. He stared up at her face as his eyes drooped even more. And before he knew it...

"Mr. Weasley!"

A harsh whisper broke through Ron's sleep, and he winced as he moved slightly against Hermione, unaware exactly where he was and who was waking him at what had to be a ridiculous hour... He mumbled something incomprehensible.

"What do you think you're doing here at this hour?!"

And then Ron remembered. The voice he was hearing belonged to Madame Pomfrey, who, from the sound of it, was standing right behind him. He had fallen asleep at Hermione's bedside, his head on her stomach. He jolted awake and sat up, turning so quickly towards Madame Pomfrey that he felt his neck crack.

"Madame Pomfrey!"

"Well, who did you expect?" she asked through narrowed eyes, her hands on her hips.

"Sorry," Ron mumbled as he stood from the chair. "I was just... I just came to... I needed..." Ron reached so quickly for his school bag on Hermione's bedside table that he knocked over the large stack of parchment that contained the carefully copied notes and assignments he had made for Hermione. Madame Pomfrey tutted, but bent down to help him pick up the parchment. Ron's face was burning, and he tried not to look directly at Madame Pomfrey, but as he straightened up to place the parchment he had collected back on Hermione's bedside table, Madame Pomfrey spoke again in an entirely different, much softer voice.

"What are these for?" she asked as she straightened up next to Ron and stared down at the stack of parchment in her own hands.

"I uh... well," Ron mumbled, scratching the back of his neck.

"Are these for Miss Granger?" Madame Pomfrey asked, her eyes finally moving from the parchment to Ron.

"Well... yes," Ron admitted. "I thought she could use them when she, you know... when she wakes up. She'll be really behind..."

"And you were here tonight to bring them to her?"

Ron nodded slightly, but looked away from Madame Pomfrey again, blushing. There was a pause during which Ron could almost hear Madame Pomfrey's anger subside.

"You shouldn't have been out of bed after hours, Mr. Weasley," Madame Pomfrey began.

"I know, Madame Pomfrey, and I'm really sorry. I'll just-"

"But," Madame Pomfrey continued, cutting Ron off, "it was very good of you to look out for your friend. Perhaps you should try to plan your deliveries for a time that adheres to school rules..." Madame Pomfrey's lips twitched slightly, "...however, if you go right back up to your dormitory now and are careful not to be caught, I think you can make it back into your bed and no one but you and I will be the wiser."

Ron stared at Madame Pomfrey for a moment, dumbfounded.

"Go on now," Madame Pomfrey urged as she stacked the parchment in her hands on Hermione's table with the rest that Ron had picked up. "Go before I change my mind."

"Oh, yes, right," Ron said, nodding and adjusting the strap of his bag on his shoulder. "Thank you, Madame Pomfrey," he breathed as he shuffled quickly out from behind Hermione's bed curtains. "Thank you," he said again as he pulled the infirmary doors open and stepped out into the dark corridor. He closed his eyes for a moment on the other side, relieved and still shocked at Madame Pomfrey's compassion.

He slipped careful up flights of stairs, through corridors and finally to the portrait of the Fat Lady. He frantically whispered the password to the disgruntled and half-asleep Fat Lady, and she permitted him entrance, but only after berating him for waking her from what had been a very pleasant dream.

When Ron reached the boy's dormitory, he quietly entered it and removed his school bag before climbing into his four poster. No one in the room stirred, and he could even hear Neville's soft snores as he pulled his blanket up over himself. Madame Pomfrey had been right. No one needed to know where he had been and what he had been doing. Not even Hermione...


	3. The Death of a Champion

**Chapter 3 – The Death of a Champion**

Hermione stood in the middle of her dormitory in shocked silence. She still could not believe it.

Cedric Diggory, Hufflepuff Keeper, Prefect, Triwizard Champion... dead.

And even though Hermione could hardly say that she knew him well, it was as if his death was a sign, a warning of what was coming, and she couldn't get this thought out of her head. What if it had been Harry who had returned from the maze with his eyes wide in terror, his body rigid and lifeless? No one was safe. Not after what had happened that night...

And now, standing in her dormitory, Hermione felt more lonely than she had ever thought possible. She wanted to talk to someone, anyone, about what had happened, about what they could do to move on... but she knew how silly she would sound to Harry or to Ron. She was the strong one, the one they relied on to be there in a time of need, to protect them and solve whatever obstacles presented themselves so that they could win, they could prevail. But she didn't feel very strong all of a sudden.

It was scary for her not to feel like she was in control. She knew that if she put her mind back into her studies, she would feel better... but that didn't seem like the right thing to do tonight, and she was too tired and too confused to think straight anyhow.

After a long moment, Hermione took a deep breath and headed down the stairs from the girl's dormitory, intent on finding her Arithmancy book where she had left it on a table in the common room. Though she didn't feel much like studying, it was all that she thought she had right now. She knew that Harry was dealing with his own grief. After all, he had known Cedric better than Hermione or Ron had. And Ron, Hermione was sure, was already in bed. She didn't want to disturb either of them, especially when she knew she wouldn't really be able to explain to them exactly why she needed their company.

But when she stepped off the last stair, her eyes landed on the back of a shaggy ginger head where it rested against the arm of the sofa in front of the slowly dying fire.

Hermione froze, knowing instantly that it was Ron, unsure if she should approach him or leave him to sleep in the common room. But then his head started to move, to turn awkwardly to look around the edge of the sofa towards the doorway to the girl's dormitory where Hermione now stood.

"Hermione?" he said, squinting in the low light. "What are you doing?"

"Just came down for my Arithmancy book," she said quickly, breaking eye contact with Ron and heading across the room to the table where her book still sat.

"Oh," Ron said in a low voice as he shuffled over onto his back again.

Hermione picked up her book and approached the couch from the back, looking over the edge at Ron. Now that she had a clear view of him, she saw how far his legs hung off the opposite arm of the couch, and she giggled at the sight.

"What?" Ron asked, staring up at her curiously.

"Your legs, Ron," Hermione said, grinning slightly.

Ron looked down at where his legs hung over the edge of the couch, but quickly rested his head back against the sofa arm again.

"So?" he said in a slightly defensive way, glancing up at Hermione again.

"Nothing. Just looked funny. You're much too tall for this couch I'm afraid," Hermione said, smiling down at him.

"Yeah, well," Ron mumbled, closing his eyes. Hermione stared down at him for a moment longer, afraid she had hurt his feelings but, as usual, unable to say what she really thought, that she _liked _how tall Ron was. It wasn't appropriate for her to say such things to a friend, was it? Hermione shook her head slightly, then took a step away from the couch.

"Well," she said dismissively, "I guess I'll leave you to it then."

But just as she turned her back towards the couch, she heard a slight creek and a rustling as Ron sat up behind her to look over the back of the sofa.

"You don't have to go," he said quickly, but as Hermione turned back around, she spotted the blush creeping onto Ron's cheeks. "You weren't disturbing me or anything. This is the _common _room, you know. Not the _Ron _room..." Ron smirked at her and she rolled her eyes playfully.

"I'm just going to read," Hermione said, "so I won't be the best company."

"That's fine," Ron said softly. He paused as he looked up at Hermione, his cheeks flushed. Then he added, "How is that any different than a regular day? You read about 20 hours a day, right?"

Hermione frowned at him, but walked over to an arm chair next to the couch and sat down. Ron watched her from where he sat against the arm of the couch as she stared at the book in her lap for a moment, then tossed it to the ground next to the chair. Ron raised his eyebrows at her.

"I don't read 20 hours a day, Ron," she said softly. "And do you really think I'm that bad at doing anything other than reading?"

"What?" Ron said, looking puzzled. "That's not what I said..."

"Sure it is," Hermione countered. "I said that I won't be great company tonight and you asked how that was different from any other day."

"No, that's not-"

"It doesn't matter," Hermione cut in. "You're right I suppose."

"Right? But I didn't say-"

"But it's all I have, isn't it?" Hermione continued as if she hadn't heard Ron at all. "I know that I'm pretty smart, and I know that I can always just keep on learning because it's what I'm good at. What else can I do really? I'm rubbish at chess, I don't know anything about Quidditch, as you and Harry point out as often as you can find the time, and I don't have any hobbies other than studying, do I? I just read and learn and make good marks because... it's just what I _do_." Hermione paused and looked down at her lap, biting her lip.

"But what's wrong with that?" Ron asked, sounding a little bewildered at Hermione's defeated tone.

"Everything," Hermione said quietly, and Ron suddenly noticed that her eyes were red and wet, though no tears had yet fallen from them. Ron sat up further, his back losing contact with the couch's arm.

"Did someone say something to you, Hermione? They don't know what they're talking about if they did. They don't know you like I do..." Ron's eyes widened slightly at his slip up... "and Harry!" he added quickly as Hermione tilted her head back up to look over at him. "_We_ know you better than that. There's nothing wrong with being smart... not just smart, _brilliant_. Sometimes I'm right jealous of how much you know and how clever you are, to be honest..." Ron let his ramble trail off and he glanced away from Hermione.

"No one said anything to me, Ron," Hermione admitted in a small voice. "I just got to thinking, that's all." Hermione watched as Ron's mouth twitched, and she had the feeling that he was resisting a very strong urge to make a joke about her thinking too much...

"So... what's this all about then? What were you thinking about?" Ron asked slowly, meeting eyes with her again.

"Cedric," Hermione said simply. Ron furrowed his eyebrows.

"Cedric?" he repeated, and she nodded, looking back down at her lap again. "Hermione, not to be daft or anything, but what the hell does he have to do with this?"

Hermione sighed.

"I knew I shouldn't have tried to talk to you, Ron," she said, standing up slowly from the chair.

"No, wait!" Ron shouted, scooting to the edge of the couch cushion he was sitting on. "I know I'm being thick, but I'm not following. I want to understand, so maybe you could try to explain it to me?"

Hermione stared down at Ron, touched by his words. He really wanted her to talk to him. His ears were bright red but he didn't look away from her as she nodded very slowly and sat on the couch next to him.

"Cedric was so smart, so well liked. He was a Prefect, a Keeper, and the Goblet picked him to compete in the tournament. He must have been a really good wizard or he wouldn't have been chosen."

Ron nodded slowly, but remained silent, waiting for her to continue.

"And yet... he... was killed so fast. In an instant..." Hermione eyes filled with tears again and she looked forward into the glowing ashes of the fire. "There are so many things I would regret... if I died..."

"Like what?" Ron asked hoarsely, his forehead creased with concern.

"We're too young to die, Ron," she said simply, and he nodded slowly, understanding.

"Yeah, we are," he agreed. "But what happened to Cedric... he didn't die because he studied too much. Harry told us exactly what happened, and there was nothing he could have done to prevent it. "

"I'm not saying I think Cedric died because he was smart, Ron," Hermione said, a little impatiently. "If we're going to survive... whatever's coming... we have to be prepared, we have to know all that we can to protect ourselves if there's an attack..."

Ron swallowed thickly as Hermione's words sunk in.

"So what are you saying then?" Ron asked slowly.

"I'm saying that I want people to know me as more than a study guide. I want to be important in other people's lives, to be cared about, because that's what it's all about, isn't it? And if we don't have that... then what's the point? I don't want to die and only leave behind good marks and exam results."

"And you don't think people care about you that way?" Ron asked, incredulous. Hermione sighed again.

"I don't know, Ron..."

He stared at her in disbelief for a moment, but when she moved to pick up her book from the floor, he reached out to stop her, taking her wrist in his hand.

"Me and Harry, we care about you as more than a study guide, Hermione. A lot more. You're our best friend."

Hermione stared down at Ron's hand on her wrist, feeling her heartbeat increase.

"You're my best friend too, Ron," she choked, tears now beginning to spill down her cheeks.

"And Harry?" Ron asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Yes, but it's different," Hermione said in a voice as quiet as Ron's had been. "I didn't want to talk to Harry tonight."

And though Ron didn't seem to know exactly what this meant, he definitely hadn't minded hearing it. He scooted back along the couch again and rested his head on the arm, his body squished against the couch back, his legs extended past Hermione to the other arm of the couch. She turned to look at him lying next to her where she sat on the edge of the couch, and she smiled softly, wiping her face with the back of her hand to dry her tears.

"You don't mind if I stay down here with you for a while longer, do you?" Hermione asked. "It's cold and quiet in the dormitory."

"Course not," Ron said with a half smile. "Why do you think I left such a big space on the side of the couch?"

"Because I'm sitting here, and if you hadn't you would have shoved me off the edge?" Hermione teased, pushing his legs further against the couch back. Ron grinned.

"I guess that's a pretty good reason too," he said.

"Well budge over a bit more," Hermione said as she picked up her book and scooted back against the arm of the couch next to Ron. She squeezed against him, pushing his left side all the way against the back of the couch, and as she felt her own cheeks flush, she caught a glimpse of Ron's bright red ears. Her stomach fluttered at their proximity as she settled onto the sofa and opened her book. Ron's eyes fluttered shut, and Hermione glanced over at him next to her as she flipped a page in her book.

"Planning on sleeping in the common room?" she asked.

"Mmm," Ron answered, his lips curling into a smile. His eyes remained shut, and it wasn't long before his breathing became deeper and slower. Hermione smiled down at him, realizing that she had never been this close to him before, not for this long. She felt warm and comforted, but also incredibly nervous. It was wonderful.

Hermione attempted to read through the first chapter of her Arithmancy book for what must have been the fifth or sixth time, but she was having difficulty keeping her eyes open. Finally, she gave it up as a bad job and let the book fall onto her chest, too tired to even think about going back upstairs to her dormitory...

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Hermione awoke to Ron's scratchy voice in her ear, something she had never had the pleasure of waking up to before...

"Hermione?" he was whispering, and then she remembered where she was. She turned slightly to her left towards the sound of Ron's voice, and her book fell with the thud from her chest onto the floor next to the couch as she moved.

"Hmm?" she replied, her eyes opening more fully now as she became completely aware of her position on the couch.

"You okay?" Ron asked, and Hermione had the impression that he had been having a nightmare.

"Fine," she whispered, meeting his eyes across the arm of the couch where their heads rested together, facing each other.

"Mmm, good," Ron mumbled. "Just... wanted to be sure..." Hermione smiled. She felt Ron's legs move against her own and her stomach flipped. Ron's eyes slipped shut again and just as Hermione was about to try to close her own, thinking that it was probably safe to stay here considering Ron hadn't asked her to leave, Ron's arm moved under her head, stretching out so his arm became her pillow. "Sorry," Ron mumbled, his eyes still closed. "Arm was asleep..."

"That's okay," Hermione whispered as she sunk back against Ron's arm, her lips curling into a smile, her heart beating at double speed. Before she knew it, she was asleep again beside him.

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Hermione's eyes cracked open, the dark common room of the night before now lit in a bluish early morning glow. The first sight to come into focus in front of her eyes however was Ron's face, mere inches from her own. Her eyes widened, and she slowly realized how tangled they had become in the night. Ron's leg was draped over hers and his left arm had found its way halfway across her side. His other arm, as she clearly remembered now, was under her head. And then it occurred to her... it was morning. People would be waking up soon. And it certainly wouldn't do for her to be found sleeping on the common room couch with Ron wrapped around her.

She moved slowly, hoping not to wake him, but as she slid her leg out from under his, his eyes cracked open as well and he stared up at her, looking a little confused.

"Her..." he started, but then his eyes popped open wide. "What time is it?"

Hermione stood from the couch and straightened out her pajamas, then checked her watch.

"6am," she said, stifling a yawn. "You should get upstairs before Harry wakes up. You're never up before him. He'll wonder where you are."

Ron sat up and Hermione had to hold back her giggles at the sight of his hair sticking up at all angles.

"Right," Ron mumbled. "Sorry..."

"What for?" Hermione asked as she picked up her book.

"Didn't mean to... well, to fall asleep for so long..."

"That's okay. I was pretty tired too."

Ron nodded as he stood up.

"Ron," Hermione said as he straightened his own clothes and ran his hand through his hair. "Thank you."

"What for?" Ron asked, looking a little perplexed.

"For last night," Hermione said softly. "For listening to me. For what you said about me being you... and Harry's... best friend."

"You didn't know that before?" Ron asked with a lopsided grin.

"I guess I did," Hermione admitted, returning his smile. "It's just nice to hear it every once in a while."

"Yeah, I know what you mean," Ron said, smiling broadly at her. "No problem."

Their eyes locked, and finally Hermione broke eye contact, blushing slightly.

"Well, goodnight, Ron," she said as the two of them headed towards their own staircases.

"Good morning, more like," Ron said with a grin as he headed up the stairs towards his dormitory. Hermione watched him go, and once he had rounded the first corner up the spiral staircase and she could no longer see him, she started up the stairs towards her own dormitory, feeling more like herself than she had in a long time.


	4. The Department of Mysteries

**Chapter 4 - The Department of Mysteries**

As Ron's eyes opened in the dark hospital wing, the events that led to him being in the bed he now occupied came rushing back to him. His head swam with foggy and confusing memories of the brains that he had summoned...

He closed his eyes tightly, thinking of how stupid he had been. He had failed when his friends needed him. His friends...

He opened his eyes again, and tried to sit up, but immediately regretted it when the pressure on his forearms reminded him of his injuries. He looked down and saw that his scarred arms were both covered in a greenish paste, something Madame Pomfrey must have administered. His arms felt oddly numb, but still painful, so he laid back against his pillow once more and turned his head to the right instead. Curtains surrounded the bed to his right, and to his left... an empty bed. He had to know who was behind those curtains to his right, if something had happened to someone else to land them in the infirmary...

"Harry?" he called out in a raspy voice. "That you in there?" Ron's query was met with cold silence, and he sighed. His curiosity outweighed the pain he felt. If someone had been injured... Harry or Hermione... he had to know.

He pushed up in his bed again, wincing as his right arm pressed into the mattress. Then he swung his legs over the edge a bit dizzily. His head felt light and fuzzy, like someone had injected him with helium. He figured it had to be a result of the brain's infiltration of his own mind. The things he had seen... felt... when the brain had touched him... he didn't want to think about it. Not ever again.

He stood on somewhat shaky legs and padded slowly over to the curtain surrounding the bed next to his. He reached forward to pull back the curtain and winced again as the fabric brushed his scars. But when he saw Hermione on the bed in front of him, his eyes widened and he stepped through the curtain, his moment of pain forgotten.

He stared down at her still form, wondering what had happened to her. He didn't know, after all, how badly she'd been injured. His eyes moved down her body, searching for signs of injury, but other than a few scrapes and bruises, he saw nothing.

His eyes moved back up to her chest as it rose and fell, assuring him that she was breathing. But then his eyebrows furrowed as he noticed something white sticking out of the top of her nightgown against her chest. It looked like a bandage...

"Ron?" Hermione choked out.

Ron's ears turned bright red at the sound of her voice and his eyes darted away from her to stare at her bedside table instead. He had just been staring at her chest! He chanced a glance at her face to see if she showed any signs that she had noticed where his eyes had just been... but she didn't. Her eyes were shut unnaturally tight, and Ron quickly realized that she was in pain.

"Hermione!" he whispered frantically, moving closer to her bed. "You okay? Should I get Madame Pomfrey?"

"No, no," Hermione breathed, opening her eyes again to look up at Ron. "I'm fine." She winced again however, and Ron remained unconvinced.

"You don't look fine..."

"Madame Pomfrey's been in to see me every few hours, Ron."

"What happened to you?" Ron asked, concern leaking from his voice.

"I was cursed. Got hit pretty hard. But I'm alright. Madame Pomfrey says I'll be fine."

Ron opened his mouth to speak, but Hermione rushed ahead.

"What about you?" Her voice was soft and... something else that Ron couldn't quite place. Concerned was the closest word he could find for it...

"M okay," Ron mumbled as he tried to surreptitiously conceal his scarred arms behind his back without rubbing the fresh wounds against his shirt. But he wasn't quick enough...

"Ron!" Hermione gasped, her eyes going wide. "Those look horrible!"

"Thanks," Ron said sarcastically.

"You've been asleep all day. I didn't know if you were alright," Hermione continued. "Madame Pomfrey said you might have scars... on your arms... but I didn't... I didn't see it..."

Hermione's eyes were beginning to glisten in the moonlight. They were like two beautiful glowing spheres inside her head that Ron could not tear his own eyes away from. But then he realized why her eyes were wet, why her voice was suddenly so scared and small...

"Don't worry about me," Ron said quickly as tears began to build up in the corners of her eyes. "I'm fine, really!"

Hermione didn't seem to hear him.

"We weren't ready for this. This shouldn't have happened. Ron, I was so worried..." she mumbled.

"Hermione," Ron tried again as he sat on the edge of her bed. "It doesn't hurt that bad. Madame Pomfrey's put some sort of gunk all over them, see?" Ron moved his left arm in front of Hermione's face so she could see. "Feels kind of numb actually."

Hermione studied Ron's arms carefully, clearly still skeptical, though wanting to believe that Ron was alright, that he _would _be fine. She moved her own arm out from under her blanket and reached as if to touch Ron's arm, though her fingers remained several inches away. Ron flinched involuntarily but didn't move away. He wanted Hermione to know that he was fine. He knew that it would hurt if she touched him, but he wasn't going to let her see that... he was going to try as hard as he could at least...

But she didn't touch him. She allowed her hand to fall onto her stomach as her eyes moved back up to Ron's face.

"I was so worried, Ron," Hermione whispered again, her face pale.

"Me too," Ron said back in a very hoarse voice.

"I'm... I'm so glad you're here..." Hermione cried softly, her face scrunched up slightly. Ron felt his heart melt at her words and the sincerity with which she said them.

"Me too," Ron said again in an even scratchier voice than before. His fingers inched over the blanket on Hermione's bed, absentmindedly twisting a pick in the material. He really wanted to hold her hand all of a sudden. He had felt like this before, plenty of times even. But right now the desire was so strong that he thought he might actually go through with it... but then...

"Harry was here earlier," Hermione said, breaking eye contact with Ron, her face flushed.

"Oh," Ron said, feeling a little guilty for not having asked Hermione sooner. He had been very worried about Harry before he had found Hermione in her bed... "Is he alright?"

"He'll be okay," Hermione said, sniffing. And then her eyes began to fill with tears again. Before Ron had the chance to ask what was wrong, however, Hermione gave him the answer. "It's Sirius... he's... _dead_."

Ron's eyes widened in shock.

"What?!"

Hermione closed her eyes and let out a muffled sob.

"Can't be!" Ron whispered harshly. "No way!"

"It's true!" Hermione cried as she opened her eyes again. "H-Harry told me!"

Ron stared down at Hermione as tears tracked down her face. He couldn't believe it. It just couldn't be.

"But..." Ron started, but he could think of nothing else to say.

Sirius, _dead_? How had this happened? And Ron hadn't been there, not to help Harry, not when Harry needed him... He felt slightly sick, but looking down at Hermione where she was sobbing quietly in her bed, he felt another wave of guilt for not being there to hear the news with her. As much as Harry needed comforting now after this tragedy, Ron wanted to be there for Hermione too. And she had had to take the news and watch Harry leave her there alone in her hospital bed. Harry was surely in no state to comfort anyone. And Sirius' death, though it was horrible and certainly affected Ron in a powerful way, wasn't easy for Hermione to have to hear either. Definitely not.

"Hermione," Ron said, and then he did it, what he had been wanting to do for several minutes now. He reached over and took her hand where it rested on her stomach. She squeezed his hand tightly in return.

"I'm sorry, Ron," she cried, "It's just that I still can't believe it."

"You don't have to be sorry..." Ron said softly. His head hurt and so did his stomach. This was all too surreal to be happening... He felt his eyes watering and tried take a deep breath. He didn't want to cry in front of Hermione, not now anyway, not when she needed him to be the strong one.

"It... it was B-Bellatrix, Ron! His own cousin!" Hermione sobbed. Ron's mouth opened slightly, his forehead creased in another wave of shock. His stomachache doubled in intensity.

He moved his hand in Hermione so their fingers laced together. It felt more intimate and he would have been embarrassed if she hadn't been crying. But right now, he didn't really care what she thought about what he was doing. And she didn't seem to mind one bit. She even attempted to slide closer to Ron on her mattress.

"You shouldn't move," Ron choked out. Hermione turned her head on her pillow so her face was towards Ron's leg. He stared down at her and could see her flinching slightly. It must have been painful for her to move even as little as she just had.

"P-please don't leave yet, Ron," Hermione whispered in a very tiny voice.

"Wasn't planning on it," he said hoarsely. Hermione let out a shaky, yet relieved, sigh.

"Good..." she breathed.

Ron could tell that she was trying to move again under the blanket. He felt overwhelmed by her obvious need to get closer to him. He tried not to think of what he was about to do as anything but comfort, but it was difficult. He knew that he didn't see it quite that way, he never had. But he went ahead anyway...

"Stop moving. There's a reason why I'm so thin..." and he let go of her hand. For an instant, she flashed him a scared glance as if she thought he was going to leave. But then he was swinging his legs around and lying back against her pillow on the very edge of the mattress, above the covers, but their bodies still touching all along one side.

Hermione sniffed and waited as he made himself a little more comfortable. Then he reached down and took her hand again, lacing their fingers back together. He glanced over at her and saw that she had been staring at him, a mixture of awe and relief in her eyes. He smiled gently at her, but now felt his face reddening. _This doesn't mean anything. We've slept next to each other before,_ he told himself as he looked away from her again.

"So what's the reason?" Hermione asked in a whisper, her eyes still glued to Ron's.

"What?" he whispered back, confused. Hermione smiled.

"The reason why you're so thin..." she said.

"Oh." Ron's eyes flashed with comprehension. "So that I can fit with you in these tiny little beds."

"Just with me?" Hermione said, a smirk forming on her flushed face.

"Course, just you," Ron managed to say, though he was sure she could see his blush now. And then she moved her head slightly, resting it against Ron's shoulder. She remained on her back, her chest heaving a bit with each breath. She moved her hand in his a little, and Ron felt a twinge of pain as Hermione's wrist brushed against one of the welts on his right arm. But he said nothing. He'd take the pain if this was the reward he'd get in return.

He closed his eyes, his mind racing with images from that night in the Ministry. But he finally felt safe again here with Hermione. He knew it was silly. After all, he had gotten in her bed to comfort _her_. But after only a few moments, his breathing had slowed and he was sound asleep.

* * *

Two hours later, Madame Pomfrey gently pulled back the curtains around Hermione's bed and was shocked for a moment to see Ron sleeping next to her, holding her hand. But as she stared down at them, she remembered a little boy with messy ginger hair sleeping at a little bushy haired girl's bedside, bringing her homework to her even though she wouldn't be in any state to complete it any time soon. And Madame Pomfrey couldn't help but smile. She carefully looked down at the bandage on Hermione's chest to be sure it didn't need to be changed, then left the two of them to sleep...

* * *

One hour later, Ron awoke to very early morning blue light drifting in through the windows of the infirmary. He had hardly moved when he realized just how close to the edge of the bed he had been sleeping. He let go of Hermione's hand to regain his balance and winced as his arm rubbed against the edge of the blanket. He glanced over at Hermione where she remained sleeping soundly. It wouldn't do for him to be found sleeping in her bed, he thought. He was sure that Madame Pomfrey wouldn't approve. So he reluctantly slid out of the bed. He turned and looked down at Hermione where she continued to sleep and he smiled. He imagined spending a lot more nights sleeping beside her and found himself blushing and shaking his head.

With one last look down at her, he turned and slipped through the curtains and back over to his own bed.


	5. Revelations with Lavender Brown

**Chapter 5 - Revelations with Lavender Brown**

"Come on, Won-Won!" Lavender hissed delightedly as she pulled Ron's arm. He reluctantly continued to walk with her down corridor after corridor. The castle was dark and it was nearly curfew.

"Where are we going, Lav-" Ron started to ask.

"Shhh!" Lavender interrupted through a giggle. "I told you it's a surprise!"

Ron fell silent again as they turned another corner, then abruptly stopped. Lavender reached for the door handle of the broom closet in front of them.

"A broom closet," Ron stated, wondering what could be so surprising about that.

Lavender giggled again and pushed open the door, pulling Ron in after her. She shut the door a little too forcefully, and Ron flinched as the noise echoed outside in the hallway for a moment.

"Oops!" Lavender exclaimed, covering her mouth as she let out yet another giggle. Then she reached up and pulled Ron's head down to her own. "It's perfect, isn't it," she whispered as she kissed him.

Ron closed his eyes and tried to concentrate on kissing her back, but lately he just wasn't interested. He was actually getting quite annoyed with her. He remembered back when he had been having fun snogging her. It wasn't who she was so much as the snogging itself. She was, after all, the first girl he had ever kissed. But now, this fact annoyed him too. She was always giggling and acting so bloody ridiculous, hanging on him and pulling him around like he was her toy, like he belonged to her and was only there to do her bidding. He wondered sometimes if she even really knew him at all. The necklace incident at Christmas had been a pretty big indication that she didn't...

And when he'd start to think back on how everything had begun, he always ended up thinking of Hermione. She had been the reason for all of this in the first place, right? But Ron now saw just how silly it had been to snog someone only to make a point. It seemed like a distant memory of someone else's life. What had he really been thinking? Well, he knew what he'd been thinking. Hermione had snogged Krum, hadn't she? And she had lied to him. She _lied _to him! She knew she could do better than Ron. She had Viktor Krum snogging her. She certainly didn't need someone like Ron. She was way too good for him. But the problem was, Ron couldn't quite figure out how he had gotten himself into a situation like this with Lavender based on what he knew. He only knew that Hermione had _probably _snogged Krum... _probably _in fourth year.

Ron felt Lavender move her lips away from his and across his jaw, down his neck... but he wasn't concentrating. He was so lost in confusion and regret. He wasn't supposed to be here...

"Ooh!" Lavender said all of a sudden, pulling back away from Ron to stare up at him, though he could barely see her in the dark closet. "I have a much better idea!" She cracked open the door and stared out into the moonlit hallway. All was still and silent, so she opened the door and stumbled out, pulling Ron with her again.

"What-" Ron started to ask, but she laughed and interrupted his thoughts again.

"The Astronomy Tower!" she said delightedly. "Oh, Won-Won, it's so _romantic _and _beautiful_ at night! All the stars and the lake... it will be..." she sighed, "_perfect_."

"We've been there before," Ron said. "And besides, it's probably after curfew by now..." he glanced down at his watch. "Yeah," he said, nodding his head. But Lavender just rolled her eyes and stared up at him, a devious grin plastered to her face.

"Who cares?" she said. "You're a _Prefect_."

"That doesn't mean I can go wandering around the school at night with no good reason." Lavender giggled.

"I've got a pretty good reason," she said, and she batted her eyelashes at him.

"We can't," Ron tried again, feeling very bored with Lavender and ready to go back up to his dormitory. But she completely ignored him. Her eyes suddenly went wide.

"Oh, Won-Won!" she exclaimed gleefully. "We can lock the door and... and _sleep _in the Astronomy Tower next to each other!" She smiled up at him excitedly.

Ron suddenly felt sick.

"That's not a good idea..." he said, but she still wasn't listening.

"Come on," she said, grinning widely up at him. "_Please_..." She batted her eyelashes again.

If Ron hadn't been keen moments ago on going up to the Astronomy Tower to _snog _Lavender, he felt completely _horrified _now by the idea of going up there to _sleep _next to her. He wouldn't do it. He absolutely wouldn't. And then he suddenly realized why he _couldn't _do it, why he never would be able to. He had only slept next to one person before in his life and she was currently so angry with him that he doubted whether they'd ever be friends again. But it didn't matter at that moment. He would only share sleep with Hermione. Only Hermione. That was something that belonged only to them, and whether or not he thought he'd ever get the chance again with her, he would never let those memories go to waste by sharing them with someone else... with Lavender.

"Why would you want to sleep on a hard stone floor when you could sleep in your bed?" Ron asked, trying to get out of this without upsetting Lavender...

"Because, you'll be there, of course. You couldn't very well sneak me up into your dormitory now, could you," Lavender said, though there was something in her voice that Ron didn't like, something that sounded almost like she was hoping he'd say that she _could _sneak up to his dormitory and sleep there instead.

How had he let things go this far? As he stared down at Lavender, it hit him, something he should have thought of months ago when he still had time, when he still had the chance. Hermione might never feel anything for him. She might never fancy him, might never love him like he loved her. He had snogged Lavender to prove that he could do it. Well, now he had proven that alright, but he had also proven something else. He didn't care about snogging. No, that wasn't exactly right. Sure he had enjoyed it, but he didn't fancy Lavender, and no matter how hard he tried, he knew that he never would. He had tried to forget about Hermione, to show her that he was worth something and that even if she didn't want him, _someone _did. But if he didn't fancy Lavender back, what was the point? He knew now that he could never _make _himself feel something, no matter how hard he tried. He couldn't help who he fancied. He couldn't help who he _loved_. And even if she never loved him in return, he had been her friend before, hadn't he? Now, after what he had done, he didn't know if he would ever have that back, and he could hardly stand to imagine his life without her, whether or not she returned his feelings.

He knew he had to end it with Lavender. He loved Hermione. He'd always love her. And he could no more change that fact of his own will than he could make himself love Lavender Brown instead.

"We can't go up to the Astronomy Tower right now, Lavender," Ron said simply. "We're supposed to be back in Gryffindor Tower."

"You and Harry did it plenty of times," Lavender said, "sneaking out after hours. I know you did."

"And Hermione, she was there," Ron said before he knew what he was saying. Lavender glared at him and he wished he could run back up to Gryffindor Tower immediately, away from her.

"What's _she _got to do with anything?" Lavender demanded. "Do you think I wouldn't be smart enough to get us out of trouble if someone came up there? Oh, but the great, _perfect _Hermione Granger could, couldn't she. Why aren't you snogging her then if she's so perfect?"

Ron couldn't take it. What was he supposed to say? He could say nothing and Lavender would start a row that might wake the whole bloody school. His mind raced through possible answers, and before he had even really thought it all out, he opened his mouth to reply.

"Lavender, I don't want you to get into trouble, that's what I mean. If you got caught and expelled, it would be my fault in a way for agreeing to this." Ron couldn't really believe how he had managed to come up with something to say that sounded so... caring... but it had clearly worked. Lavender's eyes softened and she smiled sweetly up at Ron.

"Oh, Won-Won!" she exclaimed as she threw her arms around his neck. "That's so sweet of you, so thoughtful! Maybe you're right." And she pulled back from him, staring up at him in the moonlight.

Ron felt a wave of relief wash over him.

"Yeah, maybe," he said, and he even managed to smile back at her. "We should go then," he said, and she took his arm.

They walked together back up to Gryffindor Tower, and though Lavender was giggling and squeezing his arm, Ron hardly noticed. He knew what he had to do. It was going to be terrible. He might not live to tell the tale. But he had to break things off with Lavender. He just had to. It wasn't fair to her, and it definitely wasn't fair to him either. And then maybe, someday, he could apologize enough times to Hermione to win back her friendship. So what if she'd snogged Viktor Krum? She deserved someone like Krum, someone rich and famous and good looking. But then maybe, just maybe... maybe she _hadn't_ snogged him, even though Ginny had said that she had. Or maybe she had but it was over now... and maybe... but Ron shook his head. That didn't matter now. All he wanted at that exact moment was to see Hermione smile at him again, just once. And as Lavender looked up at him when they reached the portrait hole, Ron smiled, but not for Lavender. She smiled back up at him and kissed him goodnight before disappearing up the stairs to her dormitory.

Ron went to bed with a lot on his mind, but a smile on his face. He could finally see the light ahead of him. And though it might be a very dim one at this point, it was there, and he would do anything for it to never go out.

_**A/N: So I know I said these chapters would each contain one incidence of Ron and Hermione sleeping next to each other, but I needed to do this chapter in between to prepare for the next one. Hope you all enjoyed it!**_


	6. March 2nd

**Chapter 6 - March 2nd**

Hermione walked slowly through her dormitory door just past midnight. She didn't know if she'd be able to sleep knowing Ron was down in the infirmary, still unconscious.

She felt her eyes begin to sting as she shut the door closed with a soft click behind her. She tried to remember the last words they had spoken to each other. She had been trying to remember them exactly all night at his bedside. But suddenly she shook her head and slid into her bed fully clothed as a tear trickled down her blotchy cheeks. She didn't want to know what those words had been, not really. She knew they had not been kind. What if he had _died_?

She squeezed her eyes shut tight, knowing that her thoughts were just going in a loop now. She had been thinking over and over about how stupid she had been, how their row could have cost them the last moments they might have had together...

Tears flowed freely down her face as she sank into her pillow. She wanted more than anything to have things back to normal, to have Ron back in her life, no matter how much it hurt to see him with Lavender. She had already made up her mind, practically the moment she had seen him lying there in his bed, cold and still, that she would make up with him the moment he woke. It had occurred to her that he might not want her back as a friend, but she tried not to think too hard about that. If he didn't accept her back, at least she could try, and then she'd know that she had done the right thing. She didn't even want to think about her life without him, so she concentrated on imagining things back to normal once he woke up. They'd bicker about some silly thing, an assignment maybe or her nagging, and as much as she sometimes hated fighting with him, it was far better than this, far better than silence.

She checked her watch frequently, hardly aware of time passing at first, but as dawn approached, she became more and more anxious for her clock to read at least 7am. She couldn't very well run down to the infirmary much earlier than that.

Finally, the last few minutes ticked away and her clock read 6:55. Deciding that that was close enough, she slid out of bed, having not slept a single minute all night, slipped her feet into her shoes, and padded softly to the dormitory door, leaving her dorm mates still sleeping soundly.

The Common Room was completely empty when she reached it, as she had expected. So she was able to slip through the portrait hole without anyone knowing. She headed down through the deserted castle to the Great Hall. Her plan was to quickly eat to kill a few more minutes, then to head straight on over to the infirmary to see Ron. She wondered if Madame Pomfrey would refuse to let her inside this early, but she wasn't planning on being turned down right now. She was determined to see him, to be there when he woke up.

Several students sat scattered in the Great Hall when Hermione entered for breakfast. The "early birds", as she had started calling them in her head, usually consisted of a few Ravenclaw girls who Hermione thought looked to be in their seventh year, as well as a Hufflepuff couple who Hermione saw eating together at almost every meal. Hermione sat at the Gryffindor table, took a couple bites of toast, then stood up again. It was useless. She couldn't be bothered with eating at a time like this...

She hurried out of the Great Hall and turned towards the infirmary at a brisk walk. When she reached the doors, she peered inside, and almost immediately laid eyes on the person she was there to see. Ron was lying on his back as he had been the night before, but... Hermione gasped. He was awake! Madame Pomfrey was leaning over him, pouring a potion down his throat. Hermione pulled open the infirmary doors with a slight bang and Ron looked over at the sound to see who it was.

"Ron!" Hermione shouted as she dropped all pretenses completely, let her bag fall off her shoulder to the floor, and ran across the room to his bed. Ron gawked at her as she skidded to a stop at his bedside, leaned over him and flung her arms around him, but lightly, as if she was afraid he'd break.

Ron remained speechless as Hermione choked back a sob against his shirt. After an awkward moment, he reached up a weak arm and patted her on the back gently, closing his eyes for a second before she pulled away again.

"I'm sorry, Ron! I'm so sorry!" she cried as she wiped at her eyes. Madame Pomfrey discreetly left the room to put away her potion bottle as Hermione sniffed and choked back more tears.

"Hermione," Ron whispered in a very raspy voice. But Hermione quickly continued speaking.

"I was so horrible to you these last few months and... and you could have _died_! I'm sorry for everything, Ron. Please... Please..." she sniffed as a few more tears rolled down her cheeks. Ron stared up at her, shocked and confused, but still awed by her sudden presence at his bedside and by everything she was saying...

"What..." Ron started, but his voice cracked back into a scratchy whisper. "What are you on about?"

Hermione wiped at her eyes again and sat in the chair at his bedside, staring down at her hands in her lap as her back shook sporadically with sobs. Her face began to flush as her elation at seeing Ron awake began to wear off to be replaced by embarrassment as she felt Ron's gaze on her, watching her crying.

"What are you apologizing for?" Ron tried again in a hoarse whisper, looking perplexed.

"Everything..." Hermione said softly. "I'm just... I could have lost you, Ron! And we weren't even speaking! I don't remember the last time that we... but that doesn't matter now. I just want you to know how sorry I am for how I acted and for all the things I said to you and the things I did... I was horrible!"

Ron shook his head, hardly able to believe what was happening.

"Why should you apologize to _me_?" he whispered. "I'm the one who was horrible to _you_."

Hermione looked up at him now, her eyes red-rimmed and tired, and her cheeks blotchy and flushed. She sniffed, but said nothing, taking a moment to just look at him, waiting to see what he'd say next. He broke eye contact with her after a moment and adjusted his back against his propped up pillows, looking a little nervous and embarrassed. When he looked back over at her again, she had turned her eyes back down to her own lap, but he could still see the tears trickling down her face. He was suddenly overcome with remorse. Not that he hadn't been feeling bad before, but now, with Hermione here next to him, apologizing to _him _for what _she _had done... and seeing how much his poisoning had affected her, how much everything he had done had hurt her...

"I'm such a stupid git, Hermione," Ron whispered again. "Why do you even care about me at all?"

Hermione's head snapped up at his words.

"How can you even ask me something like that? You're... well you _were_..." she corrected herself in a small voice, "my best friend, Ron."

Ron stared at her for a moment, her eyes still focused on her hands in her lap and her lips trembling slightly. How could he have messed things up this badly for them? It was all his fault...

"What about Harry?" Ron blurted in a strangled whisper.

"He's _our _best friend," Hermione said, and though Ron wasn't quite sure what she meant, he didn't ask her about it any more. He watched her as she closed her eyes, then opened them again, her face turning slightly redder, but her eyes still down. Then suddenly she looked back up at him. "Please forgive me," she whispered, and Ron was so affected by her pleading words that if he had not been in a hospital bed, he would have hugged her. He shook his head and looked away from her, so ashamed of what he had done that he could hardly stand to think of it. "Please tell me we can be friends again," Hermione added in that same soft whisper. His eyes moved back to hers and he felt his stomach twist at her terrified face.

"Why wouldn't I want that?" Ron asked, and he watched as Hermione's eyes filled with tears again.

"You... you want to?" she asked timidly.

"Of course!" Ron whispered as forcefully as he could without choking. "Blimey, I thought _you'd_ never forgive _me_!" He stared at her, still shocked, and she looked right back, a few tears rolling freely down her cheeks again, but her lips curving up into a small smile. And then they were both laughing.

Ron looked away from her after a moment, smiling but blushing.

"I guess I haven't really apologized properly yet, have I," he whispered, then he turned back to face Hermione, his ears bright red. "I'm so sorry. I messed everything up. And I... I _really _missed you..."

Hermione smiled shyly at him.

"I missed you too, Ron," she admitted. "So much."

He smiled back at her just as shyly, but their moment was broken by the sound of students heading through the hall outside the infirmary. Hermione looked down at her watch.

"I should go," she said a bit sadly. "I need to take a shower and get changed for class..." she shook her head. "Ron, you really worried us last night..."

He nodded.

"Sorry..." he mumbled. Hermione smiled at him again as she stood.

"Can I come back and visit you at lunch?" she asked timidly. Ron laughed and nodded.

"Please do," he whispered.

She smiled at him one more time before turning and heading for the door. She bent down to pick up her discarded bag just before she opened the doors to leave. As she stepped through, she turned back to Ron where she caught him still staring after her. He looked away quickly, blushing furiously. Hermione smiled happily to herself as she let the door shut behind her. As soon as it clicked closed, she leaned against the door and sighed, closing her eyes. It was over. They were going to be alright.

* * *

Hermione shoved her food furiously into her mouth, barely taking time to taste what she was eating.

"Slow down!" Ginny said from across the table. "You're going to choke."

"Done," Hermione said, pushing her plate away. "I'll see you in Potions later, Harry," she said as she stood from the table.

"Wait, Hermione," Harry said tentatively, "Ginny and I were going to head down to the infirmary to visit Ron in a minute. Want to join us?"

Hermione sensed that Harry was dancing very carefully around this subject, not sure if she was going to be upset at his mention of Ron in the first place.

"I'm going there now," Hermione admitted with a slight blush.

"Oh," Harry said, studying Hermione curiously. "Right."

"You know he's awake now?" Ginny asked. Hermione nodded.

"See you," she said, not really caring to get into a discussion about her early morning visit to see him. She hurried off to the doors and half ran down the corridor to the infirmary. She rushed in and was pleased to see Ron sitting up in bed. A grin spread across his face the moment he saw her entering the room.

"Hey," he said in a raspy voice as she quickly approached his bed.

"Hey," she echoed back through her own grin. "How do you feel?"

Ron shrugged.

"I think I might know what it feels like to be paralyzed now," he joked, but Hermione's smile fell slightly. "I'll be fine," he added quickly, giving her a lopsided grin. She nodded, but still looked unconvinced.

"I brought you your homework," Hermione began, but Ron's grin faded at the mention of work. Hermione chuckled. "You don't have to do it now, silly," she added, and he smiled back up at her.

"Good," he said.

"I just thought you should have it so you can catch up when you get out of here," she said as she pulled a small stack of notes and assignments out of her bag and put them on Ron's bedside table. He stared at them for a moment.

"Wow, Hermione," he started, "that's just from this morning?" She nodded. "Blimey..."

"Well, I copied my notes too," she admitted.

"When did you have the time to do that?" Ron asked, amazed. Hermione shrugged.

"On morning break, during the lectures."

"Wow," Ron said again before turning his eyes back to Hermione's. "Well... thanks..." he added uncertainly. Hermione laughed again and shook her head.

They stared at each other for a moment, unsure of what to say next, both still amazed that they were friends again, that things had fallen so quickly back to something that at least closely resembled normalcy.

But the moment was yet again broken as Harry and Ginny entered the infirmary.

"Ron," Ginny called as they headed over to his bed at a slightly more leisurely pace than Hermione had either time she had been to see him...

"Hey," Harry said as he pulled up a chair for Ginny, then one for himself. They sat next to Hermione by Ron's bed. "How do you feel?"

"Hermione said those same words to me a few moments ago," Ron said with a smile. ""M okay. I will be anyway. Feel kind of weird, like my legs don't exactly work."

Madame Pomfrey bustled over towards him with a bottle of something.

"That's one of the after effects, dear," Madame Pomfrey said as she poured potion into a cup for Ron. "You'll be very weak for a few days, but you'll make a full recovery. Drink this," she added as she held the cup out for Ron. He grimaced.

"This stuff is absolute rubbish," he said to Harry, Ginny and Hermione before downing it. He screwed up his face as he forced himself to swallow it. "Bloody hell," he muttered as he handed the cup back to Madame Pomfrey. She tutted at him before corking the potion bottle and heading back across the room to the cabinets. "Honestly," Ron continued, still looking affronted by the after taste of the potion, "that is literally the worst tasting thing I've ever had to put in my mouth."

Ginny tried unsuccessfully to stifle a giggle. Ron furrowed his eyebrows at her.

"What?" he demanded.

"Oh, I don't think you want me to say what I was thinking..." Ginny said through another giggle. Harry looked over at her, amused.

"Go on," Harry urged. "The curiosity will kill us."

"Wait," Ron started to say, feeling a little apprehensive all of a sudden. "Maybe you should just tell me first before you go blurting something..."

Ginny exchanged a delighted glance with Harry.

"Oh fine, I'll tell you _all_," she said, sighing as if it was a very tough decision for her to tell them what she had been thinking, though it was plain to see that she was having a grand time with the whole thing. "I was thinking that you have most definitely put something more disgusting in your mouth, Ron... after all, you've been snogging Lavender for several months." Ginny could hardly get the last bit out from laughing and even Harry looked like he was trying to contain himself. But Hermione blushed and looked away from Ron as his ears reddened instantly and his eyes narrowed.

"Sod off, Ginny," he muttered.

"I'd better head to class," Hermione said, standing from her chair at Ron's side. "I've got Arithmancy before Potions today..."

Ron sadly watched her adjust her bag on her shoulder, before shooting a furious glare in Ginny's direction.

"I'll come back," she added. "Is that alright?" She looked down at Ron now.

"Course," Ron said. "And you don't have to keep asking. You can come any time, you know."

Hermione nodded and turned away from them all.

"See you in Potions, Harry," she called as she left the infirmary. Not even five seconds went by after Hermione had disappeared through the doors before Ron exploded at his sister.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?!" he attempted to shout, but his voice cracked on nearly every syllable. "I finally got her back," he blushed and amended his statement... "as my friend... and you have to go and make a joke about Lavender!"

"Sorry, Ron," Ginny said, trying her best to hide her giggles. "It was just way too good an opportunity to pass up."

Ron continued to glare at her.

"I'm sorry, really," she said, more sincerely this time. "But she'll be back later. She's been wanting to make up with you for a long time, honestly. But she always wanted you to be the one to do it until now. Both of you are too proud for your own good sometimes."

Ron accepted Ginny's words for now. After all, Hermione had said she'd be back at the end of the day. He sighed, already missing her...

* * *

It was nearly 8 o'clock and Ron was beginning to worry that Hermione wasn't going to come back and see him again after all. He had already had to endure a very unpleasant visit from Lavender. And even though he had feigned sleep when he saw her coming in, he had not enjoyed her talking in that silly little voice that she used just for him. It was downright annoying, and made him feel like gouging out his ears, honestly.

He watched Madame Pomfrey disappear into her office, and he squirmed around against his pillows, getting more comfortable. Madame Pomfrey had demanded that he get some sleep, but he couldn't risk falling asleep when he was expecting to see Hermione. What if she saw him sleeping and... _left_?! Just as this thought had entered his mind, the doors creaked open and Hermione stepped through, looking as though she was trying her best to remain quiet in case Ron really was already asleep. It was dark out and the moonlight was all that fell across Hermione's face to illuminate it as she walked slowly towards him. But she caught his eye in the light from his beside lantern, and she smiled as she approached, then sat in her usual chair at his bedside.

"Thought maybe you weren't coming," Ron admitted.

"Of course not," she said quickly. "Sorry I'm so late. After dinner, I had an essay to revise for Ancient Runes. I thought it would only take a few minutes..."

Ron grinned.

"Ah, should have known," he said. "Work comes first, yeah?" He had meant it as a joke, but Hermione's eyes widened a little and she scooted a bit closer to his bedside.

"No! No, that's not it at all, Ron," she said. "Of course you're more important..."

Ron's eyes widened now as he stared back at Hermione.

"Hermione, I was only kidding," he said softly. She blushed and looked down at her hands in her lap.

"Well, you know you are, right?" she said in a tiny voice. Ron stared at her, stunned yet again but what she was saying.

"Well..." he said, unable to continue.

He didn't want to admit to her that he really hadn't known that she actually thought of him as more important than work. That wasn't a small thing to hear someone like Hermione say, and it had really affected him to hear it. He felt a bit overwhelmed all of a sudden. He found his brain searching for the question that he was dying to ask, the one that requested that she place Harry in this list of important things. But even though Ron's curiosity as to whether Harry would also make the cut above homework was great, his desire to keep this moment just between the two of them was even greater this time and he said nothing else about it.

"Thanks," he finally heard himself say, and that seemed to end it for now. Hermione smiled shyly back up at him and he returned it. But he furrowed his eyebrows when he noticed that the dark circles under Hermione's eyes were much more pronounced than they had been when he'd first seen her that morning. "You look really, tired, Hermione," he said.

"Oh," she said, and he found it odd that a blush was once again creeping onto her cheeks. "Guess I didn't really sleep last night," she admitted, and Ron realized that she must have stayed up worrying about him, at least that's how it sounded.

"Sorry," he said, touched again by how much she apparently cared for him. Hermione shook her head, dismissing his apology.

"Just glad you're alright now," she said, smiling softly at him again.

"You don't have to stay," Ron said after a moment, feeling that it was probably a nice thing to say if she was tired, even though he really, _really _didn't want her to leave...

"Oh, no, I'm fine," she said, then quickly added, "but I can go if you need to get to sleep."

"No," Ron said instantly. "If you want to stay, then I definitely want you to."

She nodded, blushing yet again. _When are we going to get used to each other again?_ Ron wondered. But in a way, he kind of liked all the nerves and red ears that came with this new chapter in their lives... he wasn't sure he minded it at all, come to think of it...

Hermione reached into her bag and Ron tried to peer over the edge of his bed to see what she was doing, but after a moment, she straightened up in her chair with a book in her hands. Ron couldn't hide the disappointment on his face and Hermione caught it. She laughed.

"This isn't school work, Ron," she said. "I just thought..." there was that blush again... "that you might, well... that I might read something to you... if you want."

Ron felt his heart flip for some reason... the thought of Hermione reading to him... he had never really thought about it before, but now it seemed so obvious. This was going to be amazing...

"Yeah, okay," Ron said, trying not to sound too eager. "Go on."

Hermione smiled and opened the book.

"This book," she started, "was something I read before I found out I was a witch. My parents have a library at our house..."

Ron grinned.

"Knew it," he said, and Hermione rolled her eyes playfully at him before returning her attention to the book in her lap.

"So the book is called 'The Little Broomstick'," Hermione said as she turned through the introductory pages to the first page.

"Wait, you said this was before you found out you were a witch?" Ron asked, looking a bit confused. Hermione nodded and looked up at him.

"Yes," she said. "Muggles sometimes write books about magic, and this is one of them. They get all the details wrong, and they write it like it's all make believe, just a fantasy world."

"Oh," Ron said, actually quite interested. "That's... kind of strange. I mean, you read about magic before you knew it was real?"

Hermione smiled.

"Yes, I thought of that before actually, as soon as I found out I really was a witch. But I didn't often read books like this, fantasies and fairy tales."

"Let me guess," he grinned, "you read really difficult books, without any pictures, about history and important people..."

"Maybe," Hermione said through a grin as she turned her eyes back to the first page of her book. "So, chapter one..." Hermione began, but she had not gotten past the second sentence when Ron interrupted.

"What was that last bit?" he said, scooting a bit closer to her on his bed. "Didn't hear you, sorry. "

"Sorry," Hermione whispered. "I didn't want Madame Pomfrey to hear me and ask me to leave." Then she bit her lip.

"What?" Ron asked, watching her curiously.

"Mind if I sit on your bed?" she asked slowly. "Then you could hear me better." Ron hadn't needed the explanation part of Hermione's question to be okay with her joining him on his bed.

"Yeah," he said as he scooted over to make room for her. "Sure."

She sat awkwardly on the edge of the mattress for a moment, but her back was to Ron's body, and she had to twist a bit to look up at him, so, in a moment of what could only be considered Gryffindor bravery, she scooted up to the head of Ron's bed and leaned against his pillows, right next to him.

"Okay?" she choked. Ron nodded, unable to speak properly at the moment. "Okay," Hermione said again, clearing her throat and turning her flushed face back to the pages of her book.

Ron was actually able to see the pages of the book as Hermione read to him, and he concentrated on the words she was saying, trying not to think on the fact that her body was so warm and soft and right there next to him, her shoulder pressed against his...

Ron was slowly aware that Hermione's eyes were beginning to droop as she read, her hands slackening their grip on the cover of the book. Ron reached out and held onto the side of the book that was closest to him, then quickly realized how close his hand was to hers. Hermione moved her hand though almost immediately, but he could hear the smile in her voice as she said "thanks" and continued to read in a very sleepy voice.

Ron found himself drifting into a very peaceful half-sleep state as Hermione's gentle voice washed over him. And soon he realized deep in the back of his mind that she had stopped reading altogether. Just as he felt himself slipping all the way into sleep, he heard her whisper next to him...

"Good thing you're so thin, Ron," and his lips turned up into a grin as he remembered saying those words to her nearly a year ago in this very same room as he had climbed into her bed to sleep next to her.

* * *

Ginny had waited up in the Common Room for Hermione the night before, hoping that she might get some help with her own Potions homework when Hermione returned from visiting Ron. But Ginny had finally given up and gone to bed. But now it was early the next morning and Ginny was awake, unable to go back to sleep. So she decided that a visit to the infirmary to see her brother before breakfast couldn't hurt. She showered and dressed and headed down to the deserted Common Room, through the portrait hole, and down the quiet stone stairs of the castle.

When she reached the infirmary doors, it didn't occur to her to peer inside. She had not been expecting what she was about to find... she pulled open the doors very gently and yawned as she walked towards her brother's bed, but as her eyes landed on the bed, she stopped dead in her tracks. Hermione was lying sound asleep right next to Ron in his bed, their heads almost touching on Ron's pillow. And then she noticed the book... Ron's left hand was limply holding the left side of the book, and Hermione's right hand was limply holding the right side. The book rested partially on Ron's chest and partially on Hermione's, as if they had fallen asleep reading it together.

Once the shock of what Ginny was seeing had worn off, she grinned at them. She suddenly wished she owned a camera. How great would it be to show Ron and Hermione this picture... Just as Ginny was about to turn to go, Hermione stirred. Her eyes opened and for a moment, she looked utterly confused... then a bit terrified. Her eyes landed on Ginny after a brief yet comical moment where Hermione struggled to extricate herself from the bed without waking Ron.

"Morning," Ginny whispered as she watched Hermione's face go from pale to beet red.

"Ginny!" she whispered as she frantically collected her books and straightened out her clothes.

"Sleep well?" Ginny asked, unable to contain herself. But just then, the sound of footsteps in the hall outside the infirmary echoed behind them and Ginny rushed over to see who was coming. She slipped through the infirmary doors to find Lavender Brown standing there, a disgusted look on her face.

"Thanks for telling me about Ron yesterday, Ginny," she said in a spiteful tone.

"Oh, yeah, sorry, Lavender," Ginny said, not feeling a bit sorry at all. "We were all really worried and sort of preoccupied..."

"Well, good thing I found out or I wouldn't have known to visit him at all yesterday," Lavender interrupted. "Move so I can see him."

"Oh," Ginny began as she blocked the entrance to the infirmary, ready to make up whatever excuse she could think of to keep Lavender from finding Hermione in the hospital wing at Ron's bed. "Madame Pomfrey made me leave. She's sort of angry with all the commotion out here. She says that Ron needs uninterrupted sleep right now and if you go in there, you could jeopardize his health. You don't want that, do you?"

Lavender's face suddenly went from angry to sympathetic.

"Oh, no," she said in that sickening voice that always made Ginny want to vomit... "I'll leave him then. You'd better come right now too, Ginny!"

Lavender turned to leave, but looked as though she was not planning to go very far if Ginny didn't follow her. Ginny sighed to herself and started to slowly make her way down the corridor with Lavender. As they turned the corner, Ginny stopped.

"Oh," she said quickly, "just remembered. I've got to go back to the Common Room for something. I'll see you later," and without another word, Ginny turned and headed right back down towards the hospital wing, glancing over her shoulder after a moment to be sure Lavender was not following her. Just as Ginny reached the infirmary doors, Hermione stepped through, trying her best to be completely silent.

"Thanks, Ginny," Hermione said as she shut the doors, her face still very red. "Who was it out here by the way?" Ginny rolled her eyes.

"Lavender."

Hermione looked away from Ginny, nodding.

"Right," she said.

"Hermione, you know he wants rid of her, right?" Ginny said.

"None of my business," Hermione said, looking back up at Ginny. "And just for the record, I did _not _mean to fall asleep in there last night. I was just... really tired..."

"Okay," Ginny said, feeling a bit sorry for Hermione. "I won't tell a soul. Promise."

Hermione gave Ginny a small smile before turning to head back up to Gryffindor Tower.

"Mind if I walk with you?" Ginny asked, grinning again all of a sudden. "I chucked Lavender by telling her I'd left something in the Common Room."

"Sure." Hermione nodded.

"You know, if only Ron could chuck her that easily, I think he would have already," Ginny added, still grinning. And as they reached the top of the first staircase, Ginny just barely caught sight of Hermione's own grin forming slowly across her face.


	7. Dumbledore's Death

**Chapter 7 - Dumbledore's Death**

It couldn't be real, and yet it was. Dumbledore. Dead. And there was nothing that anyone could do to make it just a dream, to make it not be so.

Ron stood alone in the middle of the Common Room, his stomach churning uncomfortably. Tomorrow. The funeral was tomorrow. How could this be?

He heard someone coming down the dormitory stairs behind him but he didn't turn to see who it was. He knew it was Hermione before she spoke.

"Ron?" she said in a very dry voice. He turned now to face her, knowing that his eyes were red from exhaustion and tears that he might not have wanted her to see on any other day, but today he didn't care. And he saw his own feelings reflected back in her face, in her eyes. He managed to step closer towards her as she moved into the room, their eyes never leaving each other's.

"What do we do now?" Ron asked her, knowing that she didn't know either, but not sure what else to say.

"I don't know," Hermione said, and Ron was struck by how small she sounded, how afraid. He knew as he stared into her eyes that she was not only referring to Dumbledore's death when she said she didn't know what to do, but that she was thinking about everything that now lay before them... the Horcruxes, finding them and destroying Voldemort himself... and the risk they'd be taking, the risk that their families were now facing under Voldemort's increasing power. And even though Harry hadn't said it yet, Ron knew that it wouldn't be likely that they'd be returning to Hogwarts next year. Harry would want to leave right away, to face what he had to face, and to finish it. Ron knew that Hermione knew this too, and that she was just as afraid as he was, but just as determined to do whatever it took to win.

Ever since Ron and Lavender had split up, he had been wishing he could work up the courage to talk to Hermione, to really tell her how he felt. He didn't want to go into this new chapter of their lives without being able to hold her, to comfort her... but maybe that's not what she wanted? He wished more than ever at that exact moment, standing there in the Common Room in front of her, that he could read her mind, that he could know exactly how she felt for him so that they could stop standing two feet away from each other, stop standing even two inches away...

But Hermione moved first, closing the small distance between them and wrapping her arms around his waist, burying her tear stained face in his chest. His arms moved up to circle her back and he felt his body tense up at the feel of her body pressed to tightly to his own. But as he stood there with her, he felt himself relax, and for the first time in days, he felt like he could really rest. After the battle, things had been so hectic, but now that she was here with him in this quiet, deserted, and very warm room, he didn't want to move. He didn't ever want to leave her arms for his empty four poster bed upstairs.

"Ron?" Hermione said in a muffled voice as she moved back from him a little.

"Mm?" He looked down at her, the glow from the slowly dying fire reflected in her eyes.

"I can't bear to go back up to the dormitory yet. It's... well, it's honestly been sort of difficult to be in there at all recently..." Hermione looked away from him, and he wondered what she meant, but she continued, so he didn't ask her yet. "And now... now everybody's just... I just can't be there now."

"Why?" Ron found himself asking, not sure if she would even want to tell him, judging by the way she had moved out of his arms and away from him towards the fire. "What happened?"

"Well," she said, her back towards him, her arms wrapped around her own body for warmth. "_You _sort of happened, Ron." She turned back to face him and continued speaking quickly. "But you must have known it would be awkward after... well, after you and Lavender..."

Ron's eyes widened. Why hadn't he thought of it before? Hermione and Lavender shared a dormitory. Obviously it would be hard on Hermione to be in the same room with Lavender after what had happened, after Lavender had caught Ron and Hermione coming down from the boy's dormitory together... _alone_... Whether or not they had _actually _been alone, Lavender was sure to give Hermione a hard time.

"Ah," Ron flinched. "I really hadn't thought of that..."

Hermione shrugged slightly and gave him a small smile before looking away from him.

"I'm sorry, Hermione," Ron said as he watched her rub her arms with her hands.

"It's alright, really," she said reassuringly as she smiled back up at him again. But Ron shook his head.

"That must have been... uh, a bit... _weird_... all year then," he concluded, blushing and scratching the back of his neck.

Hermione remained silent, and she didn't meet his eyes when he looked back over at her again.

"God, I really am a prat," he said softly after a moment.

"No, you aren't," Hermione said kindly, glancing back up at him. "Just forget it. I was only wondering if you'd stay down here with me... just for a little while." Ron watched as her cheeks turned pink in the fire light.

"Oh!" He felt himself relaxing again, glad to be done with any sort of talk about Lavender. "Yeah, of course. I wasn't planning to go back upstairs any time soon either. I was actually thinking of going for a walk through the castle."

Hermione arched an eyebrow at him and he grinned.

"I know we aren't supposed to wander around after curfew," he said with a playful eye roll. "But... I figured it can't matter too much... right now..." he finished, his stomach twisting again at the mention of the current state of things... of things without Dumbledore...

Hermione nodded.

"Okay," she said. "Let's go then."

Ron blinked at her.

"But..." he began, another grin beginning to spread across his face. "You just scolded me for planning to break a rule!"

"I did not!" Hermione said. "You just assumed that's what I would say."

"Well..." Ron laughed, realizing that she was right, that she hadn't said anything at all. "Well you would have!"

Hermione laughed now too.

"Is my voice inside your head now?"

Ron nodded, still chuckling.

"Good." Hermione smiled. "Maybe it'll keep you out of trouble."

"But your _real_ voice just said a minute ago that you were alright with wandering about after curfew with me right now," Ron said reasonably, knowing that he had just won _something _about this conversation... He expected a loud retort, at the very least a comment... but what he got surprised him and excited him. Hermione giggled and took a step towards him.

"You're bad for me, I think," Hermione said, grinning up at him. "Really, really bad."

Ron grinned down at her. Then, without really thinking about what he was doing, he took her hand, blushing to the tips of his ears.

"Come on then," he said as he pulled her towards the door. "I've got to live up to your last comment." But just as they reached the portrait hole...

"Oh, Ron, maybe we shouldn't," Hermione said in a voice a little too frantic to be natural. Ron turned to look at her, wondering for a brief moment if she really was having second thoughts. But his eyes met her own twinkling ones, and he smiled again, still not letting go of her hand, thoroughly enjoying this little game they were playing.

"_Now _you're trying to stop me?" he said through his grin. Hermione rolled her eyes and tugged on his hand.

"Come on, silly," she said. "We have rules to break."

"Yes, ma'am," Ron said as he followed her through the portrait hole. "Now who's bad for whom?" he joked as they began to walk hand in hand through the corridor.

Hermione grinned as they walked in silence for a while, both of their hearts beating furiously, their minds racing through so many thoughts... thoughts of the war to come, of Dumbledore's death... and at the moment, thoughts of their hands where they remained clasped together as they walked through the castle... something they had certainly never done before.

Finally, they reached the corridor that eventually led to the Astronomy Tower, neither one having really planned out where they were going.

"Should we head back?" Ron asked, his voice oddly strengthened by the cold stone walls surrounding them.

"If you want," Hermione said, looking up at him. He suddenly realized exactly where they were. They were standing in the corridor where he had been with Lavender when she had pulled him into a broom closet, then asked him up to the Astronomy Tower.

"I don't really want to go back, but if you think we should..." Ron said softly. Hermione shook her head slightly.

"We could go up to the tower," she suggested, glancing over her shoulder in the direction of the door to the Astronomy Tower. Neither of them had been up there since the battle... since Dumbledore's death. And Ron was suddenly struck by how innocent Hermione's suggestion now was compared to Lavender's, how now that it was Hermione asking him, he wanted nothing more than to go wherever she wanted, to _do _whatever she wanted...

"Okay," he said in a scratchy voice, nodding his head so she'd know he really meant it.

"Okay," she echoed, and they walked hand in hand towards the entrance. They slowed down at the end of the corridor, both lost in thoughts of the recent battle that had taken place here...

When they reached the stairs, Hermione had to drop Ron's hand to climb up ahead of him, and he thought he sensed a moment of hesitation at letting go of his hand. He smiled to himself as he followed her up. His hand really did feel empty and cold now that hers had left his.

Hermione walked straight over to the railing when they reached the top. She looked out at the moonlit grounds and lake, her arms once again wrapped around her body for warmth. It was a bit chilly this high up and this late at night.

Ron moved up next to her, looking out towards the lake as well, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. His arm brushed against Hermione's, and he could feel her shivering.

"It's kind of cold up here, isn't it," he said as he glanced over at her. She nodded, and to his surprise, she leaned a bit closer to him so their arms actually rested against each other. Ron felt his skin tingle where hers touched his and he allowed his tired eyes to flutter shut at the feeling.

Hermione's eyes closed as well, and she found herself fighting back tears as the weight of this place hit her, of being right where Dumbledore had taken his last breath. And then suddenly she felt Ron moving next to her. She opened her eyes just in time to see the top of his head disappear inside his jumper as he pulled it off.

"Thought you just said it was cold," Hermione whispered as she watched him, her heart pounding in her chest for some unexplainable reason.

"It's not so bad," Ron said, blushing furiously as he handed her the jumper, goosebumps clearly visible all over his pale, scarred forearms. "Here, you take it."

"No, Ron," Hermione said softly as she stared at his jumper in his hands, trying hard not to even glance at Ron's chest where his thin white undershirt clung tightly to every muscle... "You need it."

"I don't."

Hermione stared at him, her eyes filling with tears. Then an idea struck her and she reached forward, but not for the jumper. She took Ron's wrist and he allowed his eyes to finally meet hers.

"We can share it," she said in a small voice, blinking quickly to battle the tears in her eyes. Ron gave her a confused smile.

"That's not going to work," he said, his ears red and his eyes darting about nervously. "I barely fit into this as it is."

But then Hermione was tugging on his wrist and he realized she wanted him to sit with her, so he did. They turned their backs on the railing and Hermione tucked her knees up to her chin, then leaned towards Ron. Cottoning on to Hermione's plan, Ron bravely attempted to drape his jumper across Hermione's shoulders as she pulled him closer so part of his own back was encased by the jumper as well. For a few moments, their efforts to both fit beneath the warmth of the jumper were accompanied by nervous laughter and goosebumps, until finally Ron gave it up as a bad job and shook his head, wrapping his arm around Hermione's shoulders, the jumper encasing her back alone with warmth.

"See, told you that wasn't going to work," Ron said with a grin.

"Are you a wizard or not?" Hermione asked, her eyes sparkling as she smiled over at Ron, and he remembered asking Hermione the same question years ago.

"Funny," Ron said softly as he smiled back at her. But, realizing that he was clearly not catching on, Hermione pulled his jumper into her lap and removed her wand from her pocket.

"Engorgio," she said with a lazy flick of her wand, and Ron's jumper quadrupled in size, now big enough to practically fit Hagrid inside.

"Oh," Ron said, blushing a bit again. "Yeah, that does make sense." Hermione laughed softly as she draped the now very large jumper over her own lap and Ron's. She leaned against him again, and Ron could hear his own heartbeat pounding in his ears as his mind raced, unable to move past the fact that Hermione was so close to him, his arm still around her, her head on his shoulder...

After a while, Ron began to feel his eyes burning and his eyelids drooping, and he glanced sleepily over at Hermione, noticing that she looked very tired too and was evidently struggling to keep her own eyes open. But as he watched her blink heavily, he saw her glistening tears as they rolled down her cheeks, and he reached up to brush them away before he even realized what he was doing.

"Hermione," he choked out as she looked up into his eyes, her gaze so trusting, so caring...

"Stay here," Hermione whispered, as if she sensed he was going to say they needed to leave, though he was thinking nothing of the sort. "Just for a little while..." she added.

Ron stared into her eyes, his breathing becoming more difficult now that his chest had constricted so tightly against all the emotions now racing through him.

"I'll stay all night up here with you if you want," he found himself whispering back. She smiled broadly at him as more tears slipped down her face, and then she was scooting down and out of his embrace, her back sliding down onto the cold stone floor of the Astronomy Tower. Ron copied her movements until he was lying beside her on his left side, facing her. She rolled onto her side as well to face him, and, heart racing, she scooted a bit closer, pulling Ron's jumper over both of their bodies.

They remained silent for a long moment, Ron watching sadly as Hermione's tears glistened in the moonlight as they fell from her cheeks to the gray stone floor beneath them. He was reminded of a few months ago, something he'd said to Lavender when she'd asked him to sleep in the Astronomy Tower with her...

_Why would you want to sleep on a hard stone floor when you could sleep in your bed?_

But Ron would never dream of leaving this place now for the comfort of his bed. For Hermione, it didn't matter. He'd sleep in ice water if she was there beside him.

"Ron," Hermione whispered finally. "We're going to make it. I know we are." She sounded unsure, even as she spoke such confident words, and Ron gave her a reassuring smile as he nodded his head once against the stone floor.

"We have to," he whispered back. "We will."

She nodded and scooted a tiny bit closer to him.

"You know," he said after a moment. "We could do better than this for pillows." And he sat up, glancing around, then looking down at his clothes, reaching into his pockets.

"What are you-" Hermione began, starting to sit up as well. But he pulled a bit of lint out of one of his pocket and held it up, showing it to Hermione.

"Now I know I'm sort of rubbish at transfiguration, but how do you think you might be at making something more comfortable than stone out of this for a pillow?"

Hermione grinned, clearly ready for the challenge. She swished her wand at the lint in Ron's palm, and it grew and fluffed up to a relatively small, but decent looking pillow.

"Yeah, knew you could do that," Ron said as he slid the pillow under Hermione's head, then leaned down onto it himself, his face mere inches from Hermione on the tiny little pillow. Her eyes even began to blur together into one.

Suddenly, Ron moved back as if stung, realization as to how close and personal he had just been with her clearly written across his startled and bright red face.

"Sorry!" he exclaimed, moving completely off the pillow onto the stone. "Maybe we should make that pillow a bit bigger..."

"No, it's fine," Hermione said in a very tiny voice. "It's... it's warmer when you're... closer..." Ron's mouth opened slightly as he stared at her across the foot of space that separated them.

"Oh, well..."

He watched as Hermione's face burned with obvious embarrassment, and he realized how he'd feel in her position. He'd be terrified that she wouldn't want to be so close to him... he had to clear that up. She had no reason to worry at all if she was embarrassed at asking him to stay close to her. That's exactly what he wanted after all, what he had always wanted...

"Well, good," he said, summoning every ounce of courage he could find as he moved his head back onto the pillow. His forehead nearly touched hers and her hair was mingling with his on the pillow. "It's definitely warmer this way, you're right."

Hermione smiled at him and he closed his eyes, unable to look back into her eyes right now. He didn't know what he might say without thinking... because right then, he wanted to tell her everything, wanted her to know that every ounce of his soul belonged to her... always had, always would... but he didn't know if he could face it tonight if she turned him down.

"Tired," he mumbled as he felt her eyes still on him, and he managed to smile, his eyes still closed, hoping that some of what he was feeling would be conveyed to her without the intensity of his gaze meeting hers.

"Me too," Hermione whispered. And just as he was about to drift off to sleep, he felt her hand brush his accidentally. Just as she was pulling back away from him again, he clutched her fingers in his own, and he felt her warm hand relax into his, their fingers intertwining.

"Everything will be okay," Ron found himself saying, and he wasn't sure if he was saying it more to himself or to Hermione, but he felt her forehead finally touch his on the pillow, and he allowed her warm and gentle breath to caress his face as he felt his last moment of consciousness slip away, his thoughts falling into dreams.

* * *

Hermione opened her eyes first. Ron's closed eyes were the only thing she could see this close to him. She pulled back slightly, her stomach flipping when she realized that he was still holding her hand, still here with her... But the sun was rising, and with it, the whole school would wake. She began to sit up and felt Ron stirring beside her, then pulling his hand out of hers gently as he opened his eyes.

"Morning," Hermione said, unable to look directly at him as she stood and straightened out her clothes.

Ron sat up, stretched a bit, and without looking at her either, mumbled something that sounded a lot like "good morning."

Hermione quickly vanished the pillow and returned Ron's jumper to its previous size. She handed it to him and he managed a small and lopsided grin down at her as he pulled it on over his head.

"We should get back to the dormitories before everyone wakes up," Hermione said sensibly, her face reddening again.

"Yeah," Ron agreed, and he led the way to the stairs, but just after he had taken the first two steps, Hermione right behind him, he turned around to face her, their faces almost even now that he was two steps below her. "Hermione," he began, blushing but forcing himself to be brave and look into her eyes as he spoke. "Next time we do this, remind me to bring something better to transfigure. As lovely as this was," he grinned at her, "I don't reckon I'll be much use today with a broken back."

Hermione smiled and shook her head.

"Next time I'll bring a sleeping bag," she said, and he smiled back at her. Their eyes locked and he felt the butterflies that he had gotten so familiar with kick back up inside his stomach.

Maybe he couldn't tell her everything today, maybe not tomorrow. But he knew that there was no going back. As he stared back at her, he could see something that he hadn't seen before... maybe something that he'd simply been too dim to notice... but if he tried really hard, he could imagine, could hope even, that something was changing, that she felt something for him too, that they were going to be alright... together even... and that was all he needed for now.


	8. The Night Before Harry

**Chapter 8 - The Night Before Harry**

Ron couldn't sleep. He stared up at the slanted orange ceiling above his bed, watching as Cannons players zoomed by silently in their posters. Hermione was downstairs in Ginny's room, probably sleeping soundly. Ron was relieved to have her with him again, to know that she was alright. It had been torture to go home without Hermione and Harry, not knowing what was happening, if they were alright. And now Hermione was here. Safe. And Harry would be arriving soon. Tomorrow they'd go to fetch him and bring him to the Burrow.

Ron rolled over onto his side, adjusting his blanket over his shoulders. It was no use trying to get comfortable. He had been tossing and turning for what must have been hours. There was too much on his mind, and far too much tension in the air for him to feel at ease, even with Hermione now safely tucked away at the Burrow. They weren't going back to Hogwarts. They were about to set out on a quest that was nearly impossible at best. They had no idea what they were really up against... if they would survive it...

Finally, he swung his legs out of bed and stood, stretching his arms over his head. He wasn't sure what he was planning to do, but he couldn't take lying silently in his bed all alone with his thoughts any longer, so he left his bedroom and walked very quietly down the stairs. He was so lost in his thoughts, that he didn't even realize he had passed Ginny's bedroom until he was already stepping down off the landing. He paused, looking back up at Ginny's closed bedroom door...

He knew exactly what he really wanted to do. He wanted to see Hermione. Even if he could just watch her sleeping for a moment, to know she was okay, to see her there so close... he felt his heart pump a little faster at the thoughts that accompanied this desire... the fact that he wanted to see her so badly, that he knew that just looking at her would calm him... what she'd think if she knew what he was thinking about now... what she'd _say_...

But he pulled himself together as he approached Ginny's door, not feeling confident exactly, but emboldened by the knowledge that Hermione would surely be asleep and would not ever have to know that he'd stopped by...

As he cracked open the door, his heart raced, even as much as he tried to force himself to really believe that it was fine, that he had no reason to be nervous. But before he could even see properly into the room, when the door was only open a few inches...

"Ron?"

He jumped several inches into the air, his hand shooting back away from the doorknob as if burned. He stood in shocked silence in the hallway, not daring to peak inside.

"Is that you?"

He heard Hermione shifting in her bed, probably coming over to see if it was him... he swore under his breath.

"Yeah, it's me," he whispered, mentally kicking himself for his _brilliant _plan...

"Are you okay?" Her voice still sounded distant, so Ron figured she actually hadn't gotten out of bed yet.

"Yeah..." he whispered very hoarsely back.

"Ron," came another female voice. Ginny. Ron's eyes widened. "Stop lurking about in the hallway and come inside."

Ron swore again and pushed open the door a bit farther. Then, sighing, he stepped through and into the dark room. He closed the door with a gentle click behind him but remained standing just inside the room.

"Now that's just creepy," came Ginny's voice again. "Stop that."

"Stop what?" Ron asked in a very strange sounding voice, as if he wasn't sure his voice would work at all and had spoken tentatively, testing it out.

"Standing there. All we can see is your silhouette," Ginny said.

"Oh," Ron said as he moved away from the door and out of the moonlight that was being cast onto the floor from the window opposite the door, the window above Ginny's bed.

As he stepped closer, he could make out Hermione's form where she sat up in her camp bed to his left, her face turned towards him. But he couldn't see her eyes, and it made him nervous. He stepped a bit closer, glancing towards his sister's bed where she also sat upright, staring at him.

"You couldn't sleep?" asked Hermione in a soft and gentle voice. Ron felt his initial panic edging away at the sound.

"No," Ron admitted as he stopped moving forward, still a few feet back from Hermione's bed.

"Sit," she said quietly, tucking her knees up to her chin, making room for him at the end of the bed.

"Thanks," Ron managed to say as he turned and sat on the bed, staring down at the rug.

A long silence filled the room. Ron could feel Hermione's eyes on him. But when he chanced a glance up at his sister where she sat in her bed to his left, he caught her widening her eyes in Hermione's direction.

"What?" Ron asked, feeling like he was being left out of a private, silent conversation.

"Nothing," Ginny said, moving her eyes back to Ron's. "We were just wondering when you were planning on telling us why you're in my room at 2 in the morning."

Ron felt himself blushing, but knew they wouldn't be able to see it, and was very thankful for that.

"I... I just... I couldn't sleep. Just wanted to see if you... if both of _you _were asleep."

Ginny nodded, then glanced back to Hermione. Ron flashed his eyes quickly over to Hermione, then back to the rug.

"Sorry," he mumbled. "I can go..." and he started to push off the mattress, but Hermione moved so quickly to stop him that he flinched involuntarily when she grabbed his wrist.

"Don't," she said in a strained voice. He relaxed into her touch when her hand didn't move immediately away from his wrist.

"I don't want to bother you..."

"We couldn't sleep either," Hermione said with a small smile as Ron looked over at her. He could see her very clearly now in the moonlight. She was so close... "So you aren't bothering anybody."

Ron nodded and swallowed, feeling like he had nothing to say, no real reason to stay here... but he wanted nothing more than to just be here... and she'd just said he could stay. He felt his heartbeat quicken again as his eyes remained locked with Hermione's, unable to break away...

They remained frozen there for a long moment, Hermione's hand still tenderly holding Ron's wrist. He didn't want to move, to break whatever spell they were under at the moment, but it was broken for him when Ginny spoke again...

"Why is it that you just being in the room right now is making me tired?" She smirked at Ron as he finally broke eye contact with Hermione to look over at his sister. He felt Hermione's hand slowly move away from his wrist...

"I'm not sure how I'm supposed to take that comment, Gin," Ron said in a teasing tone.

"However you like," Ginny said as she laid back down on her side, facing Hermione and Ron. "But I'd guess it has something to do with how boring you apparently are to me."

"That's a good one," Ron said sarcastically as he glared at his sister. Ginny shrugged. "You're funnier before dark, I think," he added.

"Well... thanks, Ron," Ginny said suspiciously. "That sounded an awful lot like a buried compliment... of some sort..."

Ron raised his eyebrows at her, unsure if she could actually see him clearly enough to tell what he was doing. Then he glanced over at Hermione again where she still sat watching him. She looked away quickly when he met her eyes, and he could have sworn he saw her cheeks redden slightly, even in the dark.

"You okay?" Ron asked softly as he watched her.

She said nothing, just looked back over at Ron, allowing their eyes to meet again this time... Hermione blinked slowly and Ron grinned.

"Tired?"

"Yes, but I was before and still couldn't sleep..." She sounded like she wanted to say something else but couldn't quite make herself do it. Her mouth remained open for a moment longer than she spoke, and Ron furrowed his eyebrows slightly, wishing she'd continue.

"I don't think I'm going to go back upstairs," Ron said. He heard his sister gasp dramatically.

"I don't suppose you're planning on staying in _my _room for the night..." she said, her head now propped up in her hand, her elbow pressing into her pillow.

"No," Ron said quickly, frowning at Ginny, wishing she'd just stop talking altogether... "I'll just..." he shrugged, "sleep on the couch."

Ginny flipped over onto her back and adjusted her covers. Hermione continued to stare at Ron, and when he glanced back over at her again, her eyes looked so sad, so full of unspoken emotions... Ron wasn't sure what it meant, or what to say... He felt, somehow, that she never wanted him to leave, that the hurt in her eyes was because she knew that he would go soon...

"Hermione..." Ron whispered very quietly, not wanting his sister to pick up on whatever it was that was going on between them.

And as he looked into her eyes, he could see them gradually shimmering brighter, becoming redder and wetter with each passing second. Ron swallowed the lump in his throat as he watched her eyes finally lower to her lap.

"Hermione..." Ron tried again, wanting so badly for her to talk to him. He needed to hear her voice... but more importantly, he needed to know what she was thinking...

But she said nothing. And as he continued to watch her, her eyes still turned down to her lap where the bed sheet was gathered, he realized that he had a choice to make. He could take a chance, go with a distant and unfamiliar instinct... one that told him that Hermione felt something for him... _right now_... Or, he could say goodnight, leave Ginny's bedroom, and never know what he might have missed. Swallowing his nerves, preparing himself to take a very big risk, he opened his mouth.

"Who cares what Ginny says," he whispered, moving forward on the bed so he was as close to Hermione as he dared to be, trying to make sure Ginny didn't hear what he was saying. "I don't have to go anywhere."

"Oh, you don't?" Ginny said through a grin. Ron's eyes darted quickly over to his sister's bed, his face heating up again with embarrassment. Ginny was still facing the ceiling, but he could make out her smirk through the darkness. He looked quickly back over at Hermione, feeling so foolish for saying what he had, for assuming... but her eyes were sparkling, and not just with unshed tears. Her lips were curved up slightly into a smile, and Ron felt his whole body warm up, his stomach flipping madly.

"I don't have a sleeping bag," Hermione said, her smile widening as Ron stared at her, a bit confused at first, but slowly catching on. He returned her smile when he realized what she was referencing...

"That's okay," he managed to say.

"Ginny..." Hermione began, but Ginny turned her head to smile at Hermione.

"It's fine," she said. "He can stay... if he must."

Ron rolled his eyes, but his smile just would not vanish. Hermione really wanted him to stay!

"Not sure where he's going to sleep..." Ginny continued, and Ron thought he caught a hint of something very devious in his sister's expression as she continued to direct her words towards Hermione... Hermione looked away, clearly embarrassed. Ron rushed in to save her from having to reply...

"We can, you know... what do they call it?"

Hermione gave Ron a puzzled look.

"You know," he continued, searching for the words. "When you sleep at opposite ends of a bed..."

"Top and tailing?" Hermione tried, looking amused.

"Yeah, that's it," Ron grinned. "Silly phrase, that."

Ginny made a disgusted sound.

"Hermione," she began, looking back over at them again. "You're really okay with having that git's feet in your face all night?"

"Ginny," Ron retorted, "I'm about ten feet taller than Hermione. The whole bottom half of my legs will be off the edge of the bed."

"Oh, now that's just a terrible exaggeration," Ginny replied in a very entertained tone. Hermione chuckled, but was already lying back against her pillow, situating her sheet and blanket over her body.

"Get under this," Hermione instructed, holding up only the blanket so that her sheet would be separating their bodies.

Ron wondered for a moment if she was only doing this, keeping a barrier between them, because Ginny was in the room with them, or maybe because they were at The Burrow and Ron's parents could easily come in and... Ron swallowed, a sudden wave of concern washing over him at the thought of his parents walking in on them in the morning. But as he looked down at Hermione's shy smile, her hand clutching the side of the blanket where she held it up for Ron to crawl under, he decided that he didn't care. _Besides_, he reasoned with himself as he crawled forward, abandoning the "top and tailing" suggestion and flopping down onto his stomach once under the blanket, _this is Ginny's room, so it's not like me and Hermione are alone..._

"Comfortable?" Hermione asked in a tiny voice as Ron flipped and settled onto his back, his left arm on the very edge of the mattress.

"Never better," he said, his tone light and teasing, but his soft smile betraying him.

He really was most comfortable any time Hermione was around, no matter where they were... He thought back to the end of the year when they had slept on the Astronomy Tower together. It had only been a few weeks since then, and here they were again. He wondered for a moment if Hermione had thought about that night as often as he had over the past few weeks... and if she had wanted to recreate it every single night since then...

"Good," Hermione laughed as she turned her head to smile at Ron. Their eyes met when he turned his own head to face her. And then, at exactly the same moment, they turned all the way onto their sides to face one another.

"More room this way," Ron said as a way of explaining their behavior, and Hermione nodded slightly, though she was looking very serious all of a sudden as she stared at him across the pillow. The tension between them built and broke again as Hermione closed her eyes.

"So tired..." she mumbled.

"Me too..." Ron admitted, though his eyes remained open. Now that her eyes were closed, he felt slightly less nervous to be watching her. Fear that she might open her eyes and catch him staring seemed to edge away a bit as he watching her breathing slow down.

"Good night," she whispered finally, and Ron was shocked that she was still awake. He had thought that she'd fallen asleep already.

"Night," he said back, smiling.

He concentrated now on breathing slowly, forgetting for once about all of the hard things they were about to face together... focusing only on Hermione in the bed next to him... so close... _close_, where he always wanted her to stay...

As he began to drift away, he felt what might have been part of a dream at first, but which he soon realized to be reality... Hermione's hand searching for his and so gently holding on... So gently that he felt his skin tingling and his heart practically melting as he struggled to keep breathing normally...

This was how he wanted to spend every night for the rest of his life... maybe without the sheet over Hermione to separate her body from his... maybe a lot closer to her... maybe with a few less clothes... But when this thought found its way across Ron's mind, he was too far gone, too lost in sleep to feel embarrassed or to think on it too long... But his dreams were much brighter and more delightful than any that he had had in quite some time...

* * *

When Ron opened his eyes, he felt his face instantly burn, and as he blinked at Hermione where she lay, still sleeping, right next to him in her camp bed, he realized exactly why his blood was suddenly boiling... He had just been having a very vivid dream of Hermione in a bed with him, a bed much like the one they were in now, but bigger, more private... and... his eyes widened and he pulled his hand carefully out of hers, wincing when he felt her stir slightly next to him. For a moment, as he slowly slid out of the bed, being extra careful not to make a sound, he felt as nervous and embarrassed as he might have if Hermione had actually been able to read his thoughts...

He blinked down at her, and an image of Hermione's bare skin (a prominent feature in his dream) flashed past his closed eyes. His pulse quickened, and he moved away from the bed, ready for a cold shower...

As much as he wanted to spend every night with Hermione, he couldn't let her find out what he had just been thinking... what if she had woken up and discovered... his eyes widened as he exited the room. He sighed as the door clicked quietly shut behind him. The smell of his mother's breakfast wafted up from the kitchen below and he closed his eyes, overwhelmed by so many sensations.

But he _did _want Hermione to know what he had been thinking... in a way. He wanted her to know... and he wanted her to_ like it_...

"Right," he mumbled to himself sarcastically. "Keep dreaming." He smiled at the irony of his words to himself as he made his way back upstairs to his room.


	9. At Grimmauld Place

**Chapter 9 - At Grimmauld Place**

Ron stared down at the cushions he had arranged on the floor for Hermione. He nodded his head once, satisfied with his efforts, and reached for her sleeping bag. But he caught her eye as he began adjusting her sleeping bag on top of the cushions. Her hands on her hips, Hermione raised her eyebrows and stared at him.

"What?" he asked. She continued to stare back at him with a mixture of frustration, defiance, exhaustion and amusement. When she said nothing, Ron simply shrugged, a lopsided grin forming on his face as he started to suspect what Hermione might be thinking. But he just turned back to the cushions to be sure it was all properly arranged, ignoring her.

"Ron!" Hermione shouted, her eyes narrowed.

"What?" Ron half laughed, half shouted back as he met her eyes again.

"What do you think you're doing?" She glared at him, almost daring him to answer her, just to see what would happen if her suspicions were confirmed.

"Making your bed," Ron said simply, trying to hide his grin.

"_My _bed?" Hermione demanded, taking two steps closer to Ron.

He looked down into her eyes and nodded, but as her eyes moved to the floor behind Ron, studying his make shift bed, he felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end and his temperature rise. Something about the way she looked at what he had done made him feel giddy and slightly embarrassed, like he had done something a little more meaningful than he had dared to try before. But it was just a pile of cushions and a sleeping bag, right? He tried to rationalize his actions, to make them seem less thoughtful and caring than they actually were, but before he got that far, Hermione's eyes darted back up to his, and the fire he had watched soften as she took in his handy work seemed to intensify instantly. He was so familiar with the flames of fury that often danced behind her bright eyes when she was readying herself for a fight with him. It was the scariest thing, and also the most delightful thing, the way she'd confront him, daring him, egging him on, begging him to fight back... like she needed it, craved it... couldn't live without it.

"Go on," Ron said, his voice much softer than he had intended. "Try it out."

"If you think you're going to get away with this..." She stepped even closer to him, so close now that he was sure her neck must be a bit strained, looking up so far to meet his eyes.

"Hermione, stop being stubborn and just take it." His feet were glued to the floor. She was so close...

"What about you and Harry?" she demanded, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Don't worry about us," Ron said, trying to sound light and carefree, though he felt his blood pounding much too fast through his veins.

But instantly, he knew that what he had said had been as far from the right thing to say as possible. Hermione looked down and stepped back from him at the same time, but he managed to catch a hint of wetness at the corners of her eyes before he could no longer see them.

"What did I say?" Ron asked, feeling so useless and sick of always doing something wrong. How many times did he have to stick his foot in it without realizing it before he'd start to understand, to get things right with her? But she shook her head.

"Ron, all I do is worry about you and Harry," she said with a frustrated sigh.

"Hermione..." Ron began, too afraid of messing up again to say anything else. But she suddenly shook her head sadly and sighed again.

"Like now..." she said softly as she headed towards her discarded beaded bag which lay on its side on a nearby table. "Harry's forgotten his toothbrush."

Hermione headed for the door without another word or look back, and Ron watched her go sadly, confused and annoyed with himself, wishing he could just understand, just make sense of what she wanted... if he could possibly _be _what she...

Ron closed his eyes and ran an impatient hand through his hair, willing Hermione to come back. He felt a slight wave of panic seep up from the pit of his stomach at the thought of her in the hallway by herself. He knew it was a senseless overreaction, but it worried him when she was out of his sight, even for a second. He took one tiny step closer to the door before it opened with a creak again to reveal Hermione, her eyelids heavy and feet scuffing slightly as she closed the door again behind her, not quite looking directly at Ron.

"I'm sorry, Ron," she said gently as she finally met his eyes.

"What for?" he asked, completely clueless.

"I didn't mean to get so... emotional. I know you hate that."

Ron furrowed his eyebrows, a twinge of guilt rising already even though he wasn't sure what he had done exactly.

"Why do you think I hate it when you-"

"Ron, please, let's not fight now," Hermione said, and Ron felt himself getting frustrated with her, needing her to communicate with him.

"I'm not trying to fight with you. I won't," he said as she looked up at him skeptically. "Shit, Hermione, how did I manage to become so..." he trailed off, unable to find the right words to describe the way he saw himself, as if looking through her eyes, trying to imagine over all those years how he must have hurt her, unknowingly, unwillingly... idiotically.

"...how did you become... s-so what?" Hermione asked timidly. She was going to force him to finish his sentence. He had no escape. He sighed and shoved his hands into his pockets.

"You know I'm not even usually the one who starts them, our rows," Ron tried, immediately regretting his words as he realized how it had sounded. Before Hermione could even react, feeling the familiar spark of an impending row fill the space between them, Ron widened his eyes and spoke quickly to cover for himself. "No! I didn't mean it like that. God, I'm awful at this..."

Hermione's eyes softened a fraction, and Ron had the impression that she actually felt sorry for him. At least it was better than getting into another shouting match with Harry so nearby and much too preoccupied already with all of his own problems...

"I just... I don't like the way you see me. I don't want to be that way," Ron said, his ears burning for some unexplainable reason.

"How do you think I see you, Ron?" Hermione asked, her chest rising a bit more rapidly than before. Ron desperately tried not to notice.

"Well you obviously think I don't ever want to have to see you cry..." Ron clamped his eyes shut briefly and swore under his breath at his choice of words yet again. "Okay, that sounded wrong too! Of _course _I don't want to see you cry... but you don't have to be _afraid _to do it in front of me. You don't have to hide how you feel, to be so brave and strong when..."

Ron cut himself off as something occurred to him, his chest sinking with the thought of it. Hermione was staring at him across the room, her eyes round and sparkling in the lamp light. He had to hope, to pray, that what he was about to ask wasn't true...

"Have you been cutting me out, not letting me see it when something scares you or upsets you? Because that's really terrible and I just..."

Ron shook his head sadly, but Hermione still said nothing, so he continued before he gave her too much time to interrupt him. He was on a roll...

"You're like our rock, Hermione. You've always got your head on straight. I... I know I've hurt you so many times..."

This was the hardest part, the bit he hadn't really set out to say but which suddenly felt like the only right thing he could do at the moment...

"I'm really... s-sorry for... well, all those things... the mental stuff I've said to you and put you through and... Look, you just don't have to be so brave _all _the time. It's good that you are when we're out fighting but when... when it's just us... just... me and you... you don't need to..."

Ron had reached the end of his ability to speak. He had said so much more than he ever had before. He needed her to say something back now, to assure him that he hadn't messed up again, that some of what he was saying had made some sense and had been what she needed. He meant every word with all of his heart, and he now begged her silently to know that, to understand what it had taken for him to be able to say those things at all.

Hermione sniffed, and he realized that she had been resisting her tears once more. But now, as she stepped a bit closer to Ron, her tiny body casting a dark shadow that slipped down the door behind her as she moved away from it, she freed her grief, allowing her tears to break free and fall gently down her flushed cheeks.

"I just... Ron..." She stepped even closer and Ron felt his heart beating in his throat, holding his breath as he waited for her to go on. "Thank you," she half sighed, half cried.

"What..." Ron swallowed, attempting to regain his ability to speak properly. "What for?" but his words still came out as a croak, trying to escape from some locked cavern in his lungs.

"You..." She took one more step, now only a few feet away from him. "You have no idea what you mean to me. I just don't know what I'd do if you weren't here," she concluded in a whisper.

"Hermione," Ron began, her name such an easy word to say, something he could fall back on when he couldn't find any other words. It was, after all, the most beautiful word he knew. And now, he was so struck by her admission, by how much she needed him, relied on him and... lo-... No, he would not even dare to think the word, to hope that it could be possible...

He was so overwhelmed by emotion, by the things she had said. He had never felt quite like it before in his life, joy and relief surrounding his protective instincts, his desire to be anything she needed, always, and to make sure that she _really _knew him. He knew he had made that hard for her and was still doing it to some extent merely because of this one huge thing that he had yet to say to her, the most important thing, the one she didn't know... He had kept his secrets and fears locked inside for so long, but now it was like his heart had sprung a leak. Something was escaping slowly, quietly, and he was letting it. Maybe it was all her fault. Maybe she had gotten under his skin, cutting deeper and deeper, working her way through his veins all these years until she'd finally found what he had buried.

Maybe she already knew!

Ron's breath came in shallow bursts as he considered this, looking down into her glistening eyes. No, she couldn't know...

But she ducked her head and leaned against him timidly, her arms moving very loosely around him. He stood, stunned and stiff, for a long moment, but as she began to pull away again, he realized what she must be thinking, the wrong path he was leading her down by not reacting.

His arms moved up like bolts of lighting, circling her small body and crushing her against his chest, his head on top of hers... a perfect fit. He had never hugged her this close before, never this intimately. He had a sudden flash of sleeping this way, their bodies tightly pressed together. Somehow, during the few times they had slept next to each other, he had developed a strange sort of fantasy, one that always ended in sleep, in dreams that intermingled and heads that rested softly on the same small pillow.

Ron felt his t-shirt getting wetter by the second as she silently cried against his chest. He remembered Hermione telling him that sometimes a person can be so overwhelmed that they cry for no reason, or for every reason all at once. At the time, he had thought she was being mental and had not really understood her. But now, he felt his eyes begin to prickle and he could not for the life of him figure out why. It was like his whole body was aching to release something deep inside his soul, something that he had carried all along and had not realized had been building, gaining power and control over him.

He knew exactly what it was as she finally pulled back from him, his arms slackening to allow her to move away. It was her. It had always been her. And... it always would be.

The weight of this knowledge consumed him and crushed him. He felt dizzy and shocked, dazed as if he had just been hit hard on the head. Was this the moment he had been waiting for, the one he needed so he could finally at least _accept _the word that had been digging at the back of his skull, tapping him mentally on the shoulder incessantly, urging him to acknowledge it though he tried to ignore it? Love. This was it. He could finally let his heart say it, whisper it into his ear as he watched her dab at her swollen eyes.

All this time he had known it, he even remembered obsessing over it when he had been with Lavender. But it had been easy then, something out of his reach. He wasn't going to get Hermione, wasn't going to be with her because he had been too stupid, had lost his chance, and looking back at what he had lost, he could love her in his dreams, when he would lie awake in his bed digging his heels into his mattress from anger and depression, from some sort of sick need to feel sorry for himself. But now... oh, he saw it in the air between them.

Hermione's cheeks were so red, her expression nervous and a little guilty, but comforted. Her eyes met his. And she smiled.

He blinked. He knew it. Everything had changed.

He had an effing chance!

Complete elation filled every single atom in his body.

"We..." Hermione began, looking away from him but still smiling, "should get some sleep." Ron couldn't even bring himself to nod as he watched her sit on top of the cushions he had arranged for her. "You really should sleep on the cushions yourself, Ron, or let Harry have them..." but her voice was different now, a battle that was already over, that Ron had won but that she was still rehearsing needlessly.

"No," Ron managed to choke out. "Please."

She nodded, attempted a short eye roll that made Ron laugh to himself, and slipped her legs inside the sleeping bag.

"Where are _you _sleeping?" Hermione asked in a small voice.

Ron tore his eyes away from Hermione to look down at the crumpled mess that was his sleeping bag, a pile of blue and black just a foot away from Hermione's cushions. Without a word, Ron bent down and lifted the ends of his sleeping bag, throwing the length of it into the air and allowing it to settle straight along the left edge of Hermione's cushions. Clearing his throat, trying to maintain some semblance of composure, Ron moved to Harry's sleeping bag and laid it out on the other side of his own but farther away from his than his was from Hermione's, realizing with a small hint of guilt that he could have put Harry's on the other side of Hermione's, but that he self consciously wanted to keep her all to himself...

"Okay?" he asked without meeting her eyes, but she nodded as she lowered her head to the cushion at the top of her make shift bed.

Ron dropped to his knees and unzipped his sleeping bag, sliding in without looking at Hermione, his cheeks burning red. Why was this so strange, so different from every other time? He had slept in her bed at the Burrow for crying out loud! But now... he saw a light that was almost blinding. He tried not to let it get out of control, to completely take over. He had to remember that he didn't know anything, that he was basing all of his excitement on a flicker, a spark that could so easily float away, so easily burn to ash.

He turned very slightly towards Hermione once he was settled in, and he felt her hand brush his wrist. Without thinking, he laced their fingers together and looked down, staring at what he had done, at the new creation that their hands made together, his pale freckled skin surrounding her tiny porcelain hand.

She squeezed his hand gently, reassuringly, and he smiled, his eyes heavy. He knew that she needed him now so much, and he needed her too... more than anything.

_Careful._

He was stumbling blindly now, light surrounding him. He was lost but knew exactly where he was eventually going to end up. Letting go of the last remaining threads of logic that still danced around in his brain, he sighed and tucked his arm under his head as a pillow. If he forgot what he knew, all the things he hadn't said, he could really believe that they were what he wanted them to be, that she felt exactly as he did. Her eyes shone in the lamplight, her soft pink lips curved into a sleepy smile, and her fingers moved very slightly between his, settling in a comfortable place, a place that felt so natural and honest, so perfect and real and alive.

Everything was going to be fine. If he had stopped to think about it, he would hardly have believed how much reassurance could come from just holding her hand.

_Take me, _his heart said, his arms open in invitation as he fell down, down... devoured so completely by a chance, by hope... by a blinding possibility. _I'm all yours._


	10. Splinched

**Chapter 10 - Splinched**

After Harry left the tent for his first night watch, Ron lay shivering slightly in his bunk, Hermione hovering over him, staring down at him with worried, tear-filled eyes. It had been her fault... _her _fault! He could have died, could have bled to death if the wound had been deeper and if they hadn't been able to stop it...

She covered her mouth with her hand to muffle the sob that overtook her. Ron's half-closed eyes opened wider and he looked up at her, his skin still much paler than Hermione remembered seeing it since he had been poisoned the previous spring.

"Hey..." he said, looking mildly concerned as he watched Hermione covering her mouth with both hands now, her eyes squinted against oncoming tears.

"I'm so sorry, Ron," she managed to cry through her fingers.

"Not your fault..." Ron mumbled, still watching her closely.

Hermione shook her head, clearly not believing what Ron was saying. But she said nothing else as she wiped at her eyes and tried to cover her face with her hair by turning slightly away from him as she lowered her hands.

Ron visibly swallowed the lump in his throat as he continued to stare up at her. He looked so overwhelmed, as was becoming a normal expression for him, as he looked up at Hermione. As much as he had tried to convince Hermione that he was fine, Hermione knew that his splinching had been more serious than he wanted to admit. He _was _going to be fine.. but it was just another way to show how far in over their heads they really were. And Hermione knew that the last thing Ron wanted or needed was for her to blame herself for what had happened, for her to fall apart when she knew that she had to be strong. But then he had always relied on her in a way, always expected that he could count on her to be there when he got into trouble. Now, looking down at him, seeing what she had done, she wasn't sure why he had ever counted on her. Maybe it was silly. After all, she knew she was smart... but this time, she had been so out of control. What if... Her eyes welled with tears again and she cursed herself mentally, disappointed at the way she kept falling apart, kept looping back to the 'what ifs'. It was useless to even consider them now that he was here and alive and...

"C'mere," Ron said suddenly, and Hermione looked back down at him at last. Her expression was a mixture of slight shock at Ron's directness, lingering desperation over Ron's injury, and relief. Without a word, she sat on the edge of Ron's bunk and placed her hand on his forearm, right over his brain scars from the Department of Mysteries. She remained still for a fraction of a second before Ron moved his arm in her hand. She pulled back, glancing away from him as if worried she had gone too far. But she quickly realized that Ron didn't think she had gone far enough... He took her hand in his own and squeezed tightly, reassuringly...

"Ron..." she whispered, her voice barely audible. Ron shifted very slightly in the bed, the blanket moving down a bit farther off his bare chest, but he didn't seem to mind at the moment and didn't move to fix it. Ron tugged gently on her hand as if trying to pull her closer towards him, but she wasn't sure she was reading him right... she met eyes with him and remained frozen, her face flushed with the intensity of their gaze.

After a long moment, Hermione gathered all her courage and leaned down towards him, her face as red as ever, her cheeks tear covered, and after what seemed like ages, she finally came to rest her head on his bare chest. Her eyes fluttered shut as she breathed deeply. She felt his chest rise and fall as he breathed, his heartbeat pumping inside his chest, reassuring her that he was here with her, that he was alive.

"Hermione..." Ron began after a long silence, as if he had been contemplating whether or not to even ask her this question. "What do you think we should do now?"

She sighed against his chest, felt him shiver a bit beneath her, and she wondered if her closeness had anything to do with it...

"Well," Hermione began, sitting up. Ron's expression of disappointment was so obvious as she moved away that she almost laughed out loud, but she resisted and cleared her throat to finish answering his question. "I suppose we'll have to start trying to figure out where the other Horcruxes are while we're trying to figure out how to open the locket and destroy it."

Ron grinned lopsidedly at her.

"Lots of 'figuring out'," he teased, but Hermione looked sadly down at him and he shook his head slightly. "Only joking," he added.

"But you're right, Ron," Hermione said with another sigh. "We have no idea... what we're doing..."

"Sure we do," Ron said, his cheeks turning slightly pink. "Well," he started to correct himself. _He _didn't really know much about what they were doing at all, but his words had once again come from the assumption that Hermione _did_. She knew what he was thinking and shook her head before he could say another word.

"_We _went over this at the Burrow, Ron. _We _planned it all... out..."

But the funny thing was that no matter how strong she had been intending to be, no matter what she had wanted to convey by her reply, by trying to reassure Ron, her voice had cracked, unable to fully commit to what she wanted to be able to say. So much going back and forth, so much of this game of one of them saying something pessimistic, only to be reassured by the other... then to blurt out another concern that the other had to shoot back down again... it was all too much. She could not handle having to be strong... but she couldn't handle allowing the weakness she felt now at not being strong _enough _to overtake her either. It was a battle between them, a war that neither wanted to win... they were both trying to win for the sake of the other, so in the end, they were fighting on the same side. It was funny, when she thought of it like that. They had always fought, but this was different, like they had to contradict the other to cheer each other up, like the silly habit of simply rowing had become the comfort that they both sought, no matter what they had to do to get it.

Hermione shook her head, chuckling slightly.

"What?" Ron asked, shifting on the bed, his fingers moving against Hermione's and reminding her happily that he was still holding her hand.

"We always have to disagree," she said.

"We weren't-" Ron began, looking shocked.

"Think about it," Hermione interrupted, Ron's mouth still open as he waited to retort. "No matter what you say, I have to say the opposite. You do the same thing to me."

Ron closed his mouth, clearly concentrating on Hermione's words. After a pause, he blushed slightly and shrugged, grinning sideways at Hermione. She returned his smile.

"You know I'm right," Hermione said, a delighted undertone to her voice. Ron opened his mouth, clearly to disagree, but almost immediately he laughed and closed his mouth.

"You win," he said, shifting on the mattress again.

For a strange moment, their eyes were glued together and they could not look away. Something seemed to be pulling them together, refusing to let go, and, breathing sharply, Hermione tried not to blink or break the spell... because, as it had been so many other times, something always ruined it. But now, each time they were alone, each time they stopped bickering and actually let down their guard, something changed and grew, tiny pieces at a time... and maybe, if they could just stay this way, just like this for a while longer...

Ron blinked and his eyes fell to a random spot on his blanket as he shifted yet again on the mattress. Hermione wondered if he was uncomfortable with her on the bed next to him, if he wanted her to leave so he could get some sleep. But his hand was still firmly grasping hers and she didn't want to break away, no matter how hard it was for her not to shout, not to say something, to curse Ron for letting her down, for once again turning away when they were so close to what she wanted... what she hoped _he _wanted too...

"Do you think he's okay out there?" Ron asked. "Harry, I mean."

Hermione could have hit him. She was always the one to default to Harry, to bring him up when she was nervous or couldn't think of anything else to say... and especially when she really _was _worried about him. But now, as guilty as it made her feel, she wanted nothing less in the world than to discuss Harry. But, as usual, she swallowed her angry words and the possibility of disappointed tears and switched the track that led to her mouth, realigning it to lead from her brain instead of her heart.

"For now," Hermione said. "I'll check on him a little later."

Ron nodded, still not looking directly at her.

It was over, whatever it had been... or whatever _might _have been. Ron was distancing himself from her for some unknown reason, whatever reason he had obviously had for the past... how many years had it been now? And as always, Hermione could only see two reasons for it. One, he didn't want her the way she wanted him. Two, he was too afraid to admit that he did. If the first was true, Hermione wasn't sure she really wanted to know. And if the second was true... well, she had been over and over this, countless nights trying to decide if it was worth it to find out. But now was not the time. She couldn't lose him like that, couldn't risk what was sure to come if he said no... not when she needed him like she did now.

"You should get some sleep," Hermione instructed, preparing to stand from the mattress, her hand loosening its grip on Ron's. But his eyes widened and he only tightened his grip on her hand.

"Wait," he said, his ears burning scarlet.

"Do you need something?" Hermione began. "Tea? Another blanket? I can get it-"

"Just stay for a bit," Ron said, and Hermione thought she might have actually been able to hear his heart beating.

"Are you... s-sure?" Hermione asked, trembling lightly as she looked over her shoulder towards the tent flap, beyond which sat Harry on his night watch.

"Yeah," Ron said, shrugging. "Nice having company."

Hermione smiled at him, her heart racing. And, in a moment of what she knew had to have been immense bravery, Ron tugged on her hand, pulling her down closer to him and scooting over to make more room for her.

It was awkward at first, as it always was, as she tried to find a comfortable position, but as she knocked into his injury and heard him moan as he winced, tears stung her eyes and fell before she had the chance to command them not to.

"Hey," Ron said slowly, "doesn't hurt so much now you've fixed me up."

Hermione nodded, though she didn't really believe him, couldn't really hear his words and accept them. And slowly, feeling like nothing else mattered, like he was the only other person in the world, she moved against him, her body resting nearly completely on top of his as her cheek pressed against his bare shoulder, inches from where the thick and slightly blood-stained bandages and sling covered his wound. And she felt a shaky arm moving around to circle her waist, to hold her against him.

"I'm sorry," she whispered again, her lips pressed with each word to his pale skin. His hand moved slightly against her back and she allowed herself to relax against him, all of her fear and sadness seeping away as she breathed with him, her body encased by his warm embrace. She trembled involuntarily against him and he squeezed her tighter as a response.

"Shh," Ron whispered, his breath causing her hair to flutter slightly on the top of her head. "We're okay... we'll be okay..."

And she believed him now. She was ready to tell him, ready to say everything inside of her that she had kept hidden and buried, afraid of what might happen if someone were to uncover the truth, if someone found the secret that she kept guarded... that all her love, all her life, everything she had... it all belonged to him. But then...

"Sleep," Ron whispered as he breathed out again against her hair, and she felt herself drifting away, her brain unable to form the words that she so desperately felt at that moment. _Soon_, she thought as she slipped away. _Soon_...

* * *

Ron felt a jostling half on top of him and after a moment, weight seemed to lift from him as if something had been lying... _on _him.

He opened his eyes a fraction and caught sight of a slightly frazzled Hermione making her way to the tent entrance.

"Hermione," he croaked.

"It's Harry, Ron," she hissed angrily, glancing over her shoulder at Ron. "He's done it again, I'm sure of it..."

And Hermione slipped through the tent flap where Harry was quietly murmuring. Ron strained to make out their conversation, catching a few familiar admonishments from Hermione about Harry needing to close his mind... And then, Ron heard the sound of a certain name about to be uttered, and he was fully awake instantaneously.

"Don't say his name!" he shouted, his eyes wide.

"Fine!" Hermione shouted back angrily.

Ron laid his head roughly back onto his lumpy pillow, feeling frustrated and annoyed. Harry, like always, had the worst timing in the world. Hermione was _right _there... in his bed. If only Harry could have stayed out and _awake _for his whole watch, if only he could have just... _disappeared_!

Feeling slightly guilty for his own thoughts, Ron sank his head lower into his pillow and sighed. Honestly, he really did want to know what Harry had seen. It could possibly help them and maybe, just maybe, they could actually move forward, actually figure something else out and start to see the light at the end of their journey.

And he knew what came next, after the war was over... something daunting and terrifying, amazing that it still could feel that way when up against what they were doing now, risking their lives to bring down the most dangerous wizard alive. But, pulse pounding, Ron imagined _telling_ her... and being free of this burden of knowing the one thing that she didn't, no matter how brilliant she was.

With a slight stomp, Harry headed back inside, Hermione now sitting in his spot at the tent's mouth, and as the mattress above Ron creaked with Harry's weight, he shook his head to clear it, ready to face the challenge that lay before them, the last obstacle that separated him from the one he had to do alone.


	11. Are You Mental?

**Chapter 11 - Are You Mental?!  
**_**  
**__Ron could barely breathe. He was suffocating, a hand tightening around his neck, closing off his windpipe..._

With a loud gasp, he bolted upright in bed, wincing and cursing as his elbow collided hard with the wall to his right.

As he regained consciousness, breathing unevenly, he closed his eyes tightly. He was still here, still lost. He had left them. And he could never go back. When it was all over, she would hate him. He was sure she already did. And who could blame her? He had left, deserted her when she needed him, let his own stupid insecurities overshadow what he _knew. _But did he really know?

Yes. He had to... or at least he used to.

But the locket was still inside his head, still making him spin. He could almost feel it like it was still there around his neck, a heavy weight on his chest that would not slacken, would not allow him to picture his life as he wanted it. And even now with it gone, it had left a scar on his heart. His doubts played fearlessly with his mind when he slept, skipping and dancing in front of him, taunting and goading him, pushing him towards an anger that he wanted nothing to do with. And then he'd wake and he'd be himself, the one he somehow hated now more than ever... lost, alone... and all because of a split second choice...

He swung his legs out of bed, his feet hitting the cold hardwood floor with a slight thump. He always forgot how low his bed in Shell Cottage was to the ground. Little things like that reminded him just how used to the tent he had really become in those weeks and weeks before he had run out, ignoring Hermione's sobbing and begging...

He only wanted one thing now... just to see her again. He didn't know what he'd say, wasn't sure if there was anything he _could _say. But if he could be there, just for a moment, just to know that she was alright... and Harry too of _course_.

His obsession with Potter Watch had been the only lifeline to which he had clung for the past few weeks. It never felt like enough, sitting here in his own misery, passing the time by trying to desperately think of a way to reach them, to somehow find them again, knowing in his heart that it would never be possible. Sleepless nights piled up so that he went through his days like a sleepwalker, hardly speaking to his brother or Fleur, wishing them away when they'd come to speak to him, to tell him dinner was ready... food he'd gladly give up to be with her again...

How foolish he had been to think that these things mattered, that it was important to be well fed, to feel comfortable, to have a plan... when all he needed, all he _knew _he needed now, was just to be with her. If she was there, he could make it through anything. He could starve to death, and with her by his side, he'd be alright. Why had he not seen it before when it mattered, when he still had the chance?

His heavy eyes began to close of their own will as the image of her face swam through his thoughts, teasing him as he mentally reached towards her, his fingers unable to stretch the distance that separated them. It was always the same as he'd explore the space between awake and asleep. Her beautiful face and her smile would comfort him, lulling him towards the nightmares that would come soon after, shattering the hope that he held onto when he could still believe that he had a reason to not let go.

He shook his head, blinking rapidly and staring at the clock on the dresser. It was far too early to wake, but what use was it to spend another night in pain? As his eyes burned once more, tears welling in the corners, he covered his face, ashamed for even his empty room to see him now.

Maybe it was no use to dream, not worth the agony that came with it, but awake, all he could think of was her, all he could do was run through the same mistake over and over, tiredly rehearsing what he _should _have done, what he _would _do if he could do it over. The thought of a Time Turner flashed before him once more, forcing him to cling to a what if... but it wasn't worth the effort.

Perhaps, in the end, he was destined for this. Maybe he should have known it all along. And just maybe, his nightmares were somehow better than the living nightmare he floated through each and every day. And if he could dream, if he still had the ability to feel, even if it was nothing more than hatred and regret, it would be worth it, a spark of a chance, something to look towards, searching for some sign or clue in his dreams that might lead him home. But where was home really? It wasn't the Burrow anymore, wasn't Hogwarts castle either.

Sighing, stretching and lying down again, his eyes unfocused as he stared up at the soft blue ceiling above, he accepted the truth, the plain fact that the only home he had now was with her. And that was the only place he could not reach, the one that he might never see again... but the only one he needed to go on living.

* * *

Hermione's eyes stung so badly from crying that even when she closed them at night, they still felt rough and wet, like the tears would never cease, not for the rest of her life. She had gotten used to her throbbing headache, the aftermath of her tears, and each night, the cup of tea she would drink before bed felt less and less effective, like the gradual accumulation of so much sadness had created an impenetrable sorrow, seeping down to her bones... to her soul.

She felt exhausted, even in the mornings. And throughout the day, it was all she could do to stay focused, to do what she had to do now. There was a gap, no, a black hole now in her chest, sucking out everything else good from her life and filling it with darkness. It was like his absence was a Dementor in the air nearby that only she could feel.

She shivered, adjusting the pile of blankets on top of her small body, and she glanced at her bluebell flames where they blazed softly in the bowl on the floor nearby. She had taken to sleeping in the lower bunk now that he was gone. It felt like a way to remind herself not to hope for something different when she'd wake up. She could see his lower bunk beneath Harry's if she squinted in the darkness, and when her eyes would land on the neatly made blankets and pillows, she'd remember, in case she had any chance at all to forget...

Before falling asleep, before submitting to her nightmares, she'd repeat the simple facts she knew inside her head, fighting tears each time, trying to be strong against them... He's gone. He's not coming back.

The truth was that no matter how angry she was, no matter how she tried to ignore what she was feeling when she was with Harry, if Ron came back... if she ever saw him again... She shook her head and reminded herself how foolish it was to imagine that what she wanted most was possible, that it could happen, because he was gone. He had left her, left them both. He didn't want her. He didn't care...

But then she remembered his sad words to her, breaking her heart... _I get it. You choose him._

Tears sliding down her face again, she buried her head in her pillow, sniffing and trying not to make a sound. She didn't want Harry to know that every night, no matter how much time passed them by, she was overcome by her grief, unable to resist as Ron's name played on loop inside her head. He was all she needed. And he was gone.

If he was afraid to face her, she'd forgive him. She wanted him to know that. If he didn't want to return, she wanted him to know how much she wanted him to, if it made any difference at all. If he missed her, she wanted him to know that she was dying without him. But she knew, in the end, that even if he wanted to reach them, it was too late. The damage was done. And he could not return to them. He would never find them...

And as she slipped into unconsciousness again, his face swam before her closed eyes, angry and upset, turning his back on her without a second glance... spinning away and out of her sight forever...

* * *

Heart thumping wildly in his chest, Ron followed Harry towards the tent that he now saw in the distance. He was back. He was going to see her again... It was terrifying, imaging the moment when he'd see her face. He had no idea how she would respond, if she hated him or even wanted to see him again. He didn't really care. When his eyes would land on her face, his heart would stop - he knew it would - and nothing else in the world would matter for those glorious seconds before she had the chance to say or do whatever it was that she would...

Harry entered first, and with a deep breath, legs shaking, Ron followed. Blue light shone in his eyes and then... he saw her, curled up under a mound of blankets on the bottom bunk across the tent.

And she raised her head...

And spoke.

Her _voice_! He was hearing her! She was speaking! He couldn't breathe. And then... she _looked _at him!

Eyes wide, he stared back. It couldn't be real, her gliding towards him across the thin carpet, her eyes locked with his, impossible to rip away. His trembling lips curled into a small smile as she stopped several feet in front of him. His arms lifted of their own accord, hardly realizing what he was doing.

And then... before he could take another breath, she was hitting him. He tried to shield himself from her punches and slaps, but his heart was still beating so fast. She was touching him and he could feel it... She was real!

"You - complete - arse - Ronald - Weasley!"

His name. She shouted his bloody name!

When he spoke to her next, the words strung themselves together somehow, managing to make some sort of vague sense. He wasn't sure how it was possible, but he finally finished telling her his story, and when she had calmed slightly and turned her still angry back on him to retreat to her bunk, he thought he would never be able to wipe away the smile spreading rapidly across his face. And that was just fine with him.

* * *

He didn't want to fall asleep. He didn't want to look away from her. Now that he was back with her, something he could hardly believe to be real, he never wanted to be without her, even for a moment, ever again.

From the couch in the middle of the tent, he could see her back turned towards him in her bunk. Not considering what Harry might think of him sleeping on the couch instead of his old bunk, Ron slumped back onto the couch where he could still see her, adjusting a cushion behind his head and throwing a stack of blankets over his legs.

Harry had taken watch for what little remained of the night, and Ron was left alone with Hermione. He wondered if she was really asleep or faking it, purposely ignoring him and waiting for him to go to sleep first.

He didn't care. He could see her, watching her move slightly with each breath, knowing that she was alive and close by. He was back where he belonged. Home. And nothing else mattered.

He adjusted the cushion behind his head again so he could still see her just barely over the back of the couch as he tried to fall asleep. And then, without realizing it, he had slipped away, his eyes closing as he sighed.

* * *

Ron felt disoriented, confused as he tried desperately to pull himself out of the clutches of sleep. A weight had settled next to him, pressing into the couch and causing him to feel slightly uneven. He tried to push it away at first, unable to form a rational thought about what the weight could really be...

There was a little restricted cry like a hiccup, a sucked in breath, and the thing he felt against his left leg shifted away, began to lift...

He opened his eyes and gasped, realizing with shocking intensity that the annoyance of a moment ago was Hermione, sitting on the edge of the couch.

"No!" he half shouted in a hoarse voice as he realized that she was about to leave. He pushed up onto his elbow. "No, I'm sorry! I wasn't... I didn't know what was going on..." he half mumbled as he blinked to bring her sad and slightly disappointed face into focus.

"I wasn't... I shouldn't have..." Hermione started, pulling away again as if to leave, despite his protests. He untangled an arm from the blankets he was wrapped in and reached towards her, but he stopped short, realizing that he might not have permission to actually touch her. After all, she was a perfection he was not worthy of. He was scum and she was beautiful. What right did he have?

Her eyes landed on his hand as he lowered it awkwardly, his chest rising and falling with the short bursts of his sharp breathing.

"I... I wasn't trying to wake you up, I just..." Hermione began, looking up at the tent flap where Harry sat, his body mostly hidden from their view. But he had evidently not heard them, or else he was pretending not to.

Hermione had stopped mid-sentence, and Ron soon realized that it was not out of fear of being overheard, at least not entirely. She literally could not go on. She was shaking. Crying.

His eyes darted back and forth, taking in every feature of the side of her face that he could see. What should he do now? He had absolutely no idea... Still dazed and eyes burning slightly, he adjusted his body on the couch awkwardly and opened his mouth, letting whatever happened to come to the surface spill out. He knew it wasn't smart. He was never good with things like this. But at the moment, he had no other ideas and this was, at least, the only thing he knew he could do... ramble incoherently and hope something stuck...

"Do you want to curse me? I know you didn't get a shot at it earlier with Harry keeping your wand away from you. I wouldn't blame you, or fight back. I'll just sit here. Do your worst."

But this was obviously not the right thing to have said. She was sobbing openly now, her eyes clenched tightly together.

"Okay, sorry! Do you want to talk or... I can apologize a few more times... I know that doesn't mean anything to you right now, and who could blame you? But if you..."

He stopped again as she covered her face with her hands. Merlin, he really never got it right with her. Seeing it as his only remaining option, he took a breath and decided he had to ask her. Maybe she'd give him some clue...

"Why are you here?" He desperately hoped that she would just tell him and save him from having to guess wrong yet again.

But she shook her head behind her hands, wiping her face as she hiccuped again.

"I shouldn't have..." she mumbled through her fingers as she lowered her hands again, sniffing loudly.

"No, it's okay..." Ron tried in a very small whisper.

"It's _not _okay, Ron!" she hissed through another violent sob. "You're a-a _bastard _and you... you _left _me!"

"I know." Ron lowered his head and his hair fell into his eyes.

He felt so much shame and sadness for what he had put her through, what he was still putting her through. It was so unfair. But she was here and speaking to him. It was more than he deserved. He wanted to be cursed, in truth, wanted her to fight with him like she always did. It was so much harder for him to see her like this, broken and devastated. And though he could live with her hating him for now, he wasn't sure he could live with her tears. In fact he knew that he couldn't. If he could just try... maybe...

"Please, please just..." but he stopped on the point of asking her to forgive him, not feeling that he deserved it even if she was willing to give it. He didn't think she would forgive him so quickly anyway, had never expected her to.

She choked back another sob, and as he watched her, he realized the truth, what he really needed for her to say. If she could forgive him, _ever_, that's all he needed. If it took fifty years for her to forgive him, that was okay. He just needed to know that someday, some distant day when he had finally earned it, if that was even possible, she could really forgive him...

"I know you can't... f-forgive me for what I did..." Ron started, breathing through his mouth, his hands shaking slightly from nerves, "but... just tell me that someday you'll... if I say I'm sorry a million times..."

"Ron," she cried in a whisper, interrupting him, "I've already f-forgiven you!"

He blinked at her, sure he had misheard. He fumbled over possible responses, completely bewildered. He had been back for mere hours. _Hours_! And she... had already forgiven him?!

"Are you mental?!" he asked her in a shocked hush, realizing the moment the words left his mouth that it had been a very stupid thing to say... and for some reason, it had been the first thing he'd said to Harry when he'd seen him again, after he'd saved Harry from the clutches of the locket. Frustrated with how predictable he felt at the moment, but still completely gobsmacked by Hermione's admission, he let out a quick breath, glancing away from Hermione to some random spot then back again, shaking his head very slightly as he watched her.

"Yes, I think I am..." she muttered after a second, tears still soaking her face as they fell without ceasing.

He was speechless, as was so often the case around her, and instead of trying to fill the silence with nonsense, he simply stared at her, his heart pounding as he waited to see what might happen next.

"I shouldn't forgive you," Hermione whispered as if ashamed of her admission, afraid of someone finding out that she wasn't strong enough to go on hating him for his mistake. "But I do and I... I _hate _it!"

Ron sat up a little further, leaning against the couch arm, his left leg brushing against Hermione's back again.

"No," Ron said after another long silence filled only by Hermione's sniffs and sharp breaths. "You definitely shouldn't forgive me."

And finally, she turned to face him, her face screwed up from her tears, her forehead creased and wet eyes glistening in the light from the dim bluebell flames nearby. She stared into his eyes, the most intense gaze he had ever successfully held. But this time, it was a battle he was going to win. No matter what, he was _not _looking away.

They must have fought their silent war for a solid minute, chests rising and falling more quickly as time passed, neither one willing to admit defeat. And then, breaking free, Hermione shifted on the sofa and asked him a question with her eyes and her hands, playing with the edges of Ron's blanket as another fresh wave of tears coated her face.

He swallowed thickly, nodded so slightly in agreement of something he didn't know he was even being asked, and she collapsed onto Ron, her arms flying around him, squeezing so tightly that the air rushed from his lungs as he shakily held onto her too.

"You're alive! You're back! You found us!" Hermione slurred into his t-shirt, shaking from head to toe.

"Bloody hell..." Ron murmured as he squeezed her tightly, clamping his eyes shut, feeling a strange blur between his fantasies and reality, seeing once again the reunion he had sought and prayed for, knowing it would not be as he had dreamed... and yet here it was. Happening.

Hermione's whole body fit against his, her chest on top of his and her legs resting next to his on the couch, a tight but perfect fit on the small space between the edge and the back of the sofa.

"Please curse me," Ron mumbled. "Please."

"Later," Hermione half cried, half laughed.

And Ron suddenly could not contain himself. He burst out laughing, squeezing her small body against him as he shook, trying to remain quiet so as not to alert Harry to the glorious perfection that was taking place behind him. Hermione's head became even more buried against Ron's neck and he felt his hair getting wetter as her tear stained cheeks pressed into the thick mess of ginger that hung down nearly to his shoulders now.

Slowly, Ron began to calm down, his breathing became more relaxed and in time with Hermione's, and he fell silent, his laughter subsiding as his heartbeat kept on racing.

"Now I get to tell you what to do," Hermione whispered. "That's your punishment for now."

"Okay," Ron said quickly, willing to do whatever she asked.

"First, you can't move until Harry gets up to come back inside."

Ron grinned, unable to see Hermione's face but feeling her smile against his neck.

"Deal." He paused thoughtfully, then grinned wider. "Does this mean that you aren't moving either?"

"No, I'm not," Hermione said firmly. "Do you have a problem with that?"

Ron chuckled and shook his head.

"Absolutely not."

"Okay, good. Not that it would matter if you did," Hermione added, once again grinning into Ron's neck. "Now go to sleep."

Ron's smile would surely break his face in two.

"Yes ma'am," he whispered, turning his head so Hermione's hair tickled his lips.

His eyelids fluttered blissfully as he closed them, sure he would not be sleeping anymore tonight. But he would pretend. He would hold onto her as she slept. He would be here where he was supposed to be all along. And when she woke up, he'd pretend to have slept peacefully here with her. And whatever she asked, for as long as she kept asking, would be hers.

"One last thing," she said, shocking his eyes back open again.

"What?"

"Harry can't find out I forgave you already. It's our secret. Because if Harry finds out, well... that wouldn't do very much for my reputation would it." Hermione scoffed at herself. "It's disgusting how easy it was for you to get me back. So you'd better be perfect, Ron. Do you hear me? _Perfect_."

Ron's grin somehow widened. It was almost painful.

"Our secret. I promise," he said. "Harry will _never _find out."

"Good," Hermione half sighed as she settled into Ron's neck again.

And as Ron ran through her words again inside his head, his heart leapt. A secret. Harry would never find out. The pure satisfaction of knowing something, sharing something with her that Harry never would... well, it was simply delightful. It was a bit selfish and immature but...

_Sod Harry_, Ron thought happily. She forgave him. He knew it... and Harry didn't.

_You'd better be perfect, Ron._ Oh, he could do that.


	12. Shell Cottage

_**A/N:** So, I know that most of my readers are probably familiar with the fact that I almost always delve into **PG-13 (at least)** territory at some point in a story... But I did realize that I probably should have put a warning on this chapter. Here is this chapter again, updated with a** content warning**. I am also increasing the rating on this. Sorry if I offended anyone when I posted without the warning :( Well... on with the show._

**Chapter 12 - Shell Cottage**

"She's going to be okay, she's going to be okay," Ron sobbed to himself over and over as his bloodshot eyes remained fixed on Hermione's still form in the bed where Fleur was attending to her. She looked so small in the big guest bed, Ron thought as he watched her, his whole body shaking. She _had _to be alright, and now, all Ron could do was to try and convince himself of this, that it would be okay...

Bill stood in the hallway outside, glancing in on them every few minutes. Harry, Griphook and Dobby were surely back by now and Ron had caught sight of Luna, Dean and Mr. Ollivander in the kitchen on his way up, but he spared no thoughts for them now. He felt more helpless than he ever had, standing in the shadows as he desperately watched his sister in law try to save _his_... his what? He had no right to even hope-

"Ron," came Fleur's concerned voice from Hermione's bedside. "You need to step outzide while I get her out of zis dirty jumper."

Ron's eyes flashed as he glared at the back of Fleur's head. He had no intentions of doing what she asked. Fleur turned around to face him.

"Go on," she said, glancing from Ron to the door.

"I'm not leaving," Ron said firmly.

"Ron..." Fleur began, but Ron interrupted, his voice frantic and afraid.

"I'm not leaving."

Fleur opened her mouth to protest again, but Ron cut in before she could speak.

"I'm not that thick. I know what you're going to tell me, that it's not appropriate for me to stay. I'll look away when you... but I'm not leaving."

Fleur studied Ron for a brief moment, pondering his words. He felt her eyes bore into him in a somewhat frightening way, like she could read his thoughts. Then again, it must be fairly obvious what was on his mind. He had burst into his brother's home with Hermione in his arms, sobbing uncontrollably, his face covered in blood and sweat and fresh tears...

"Eet iz not fair to her, not to have a choice..." Fleur said slowly.

"She wouldn't want me to leave," Ron countered, his voice much more confident than he felt.

He honestly didn't know if Hermione would want him to stay for this or not, but he wasn't about to give Fleur any reason to doubt him, to force him out of the room, because she'd have to hex him, and it would have to be a very good hex, for him to move even an inch back from where he was currently standing. He already felt much too distant from Hermione, but Fleur had instructed him to stay back while she helped Hermione, and Ron had no desire to interfere with whatever medical care Fleur was administering.

"Alright," Fleur said finally. "Look away," she added as she reached for the bottom of Hermione's jumper. Ron lowered his eyes and turned his head to the left. Bill's feet stepped into Ron's new line of vision, paused, then exited again, back out into the hallway.

"Bill, stay out there," Ron said quickly without looking up.

"Got it," came Bill's tired voice from the hallway.

Ron's eyes filled with tears again as he stared down at the floor, and all the details in the rug that he had been studying before blurred together as his eyes became wetter and wetter. He closed his eyes, felt a few tears slip free, but did not bother to wipe them away. The room was full of the sounds of quiet shuffling in the bed where Fleur was undressing Hermione, but suddenly, and so softly he could almost have missed it, came a new sound...

"R-rn..."

Ron's eyes snapped open, and before he could think about what he was doing, he was rushing to her bed, all regard for looking away from her lost as he pushed past Fleur.

"Ron!" Fleur exclaimed, pulling Hermione's blanket up over her chest, trying but failing to block Ron from her. Ron didn't seem to even notice as he watched Hermione's eyes fluttering open.

"Hermione?" he cried through a heavy sob as he leaned over her, tears streaming down his face again.

Her eyes darted as she tried to focus on him, and finally, she let out a relieved whimper as their eyes met. She tried to move up off her pillow towards him, but he reached her first. His arms flew around her and he gathered her to his chest as he sat carefully on her bed. He buried his face in her hair and she clung to his jacket, her fists balled into the thick material.

"You're okay, you're okay..." Ron mumbled into her hair, more to reassure himself as he held her cold body against his own. He moved his right arm slightly against her, and suddenly, his bare hand came into contact with her bare back, and it hit him just what he had done...

He lifted his head very cautiously from her hair, his eyes still red and wet, but widening now. Hermione shivered against him, and he became suddenly aware of Fleur where she stood near the door holding a clean jumper.

"Sorry..." Ron whispered, but as he was about to pull back from Hermione, he realized that moving might be even worse at this point considering her naked chest was pressed against his shirt, hidden from his view for the time being... He felt his face heat up and was momentarily overwhelmed by so many emotions. His heart was still racing out of his fear from before, his face was soaked in his recent tears, and now... his cheeks and ears burned as he held the girl he loved, the girl he'd _die _for, half-naked in his arms...

But Hermione sniffed and pulled back just a bit from him, enough to look up at him, her face as pale as he had ever seen it, her eyes sunken and worn down... Fleur moved closer to them when she saw Hermione pulling away.

"Here," she said softly. "I 'ave a clean jumper for you."

Hermione hesitated for a moment, then looked away from Ron. He let her go and averted his eyes at the exact same instant, standing and turning his back on the bed as Fleur stepped forward to help Hermione into the jumper.

His heart was beating so furiously in his chest that he could feel and even _hear _it inside his own ears, blood pounding through his veins so fiercely that the sound of it seemed to muffle everything else, all other noises in the room. Hermione's voice, however, was the one sound that could cut through anything. He absurdly wondered if he would still be able to hear her if he went deaf one day...

"Ron..." Hermione croaked and he turned back to face her again, not quite looking directly at her. "It's okay..." she whispered, and he looked up so slowly, taking in every bit of her, every bit that was still _alive_, still _here _with him!

"Fleur!" came Bill's voice from the hallway. "I think Harry's here..."

Fleur rushed out of the room as she shouted...

"Is he alright?"

"Yeah, looks like it," came Bill's voice as Fleur joined him in the hallway and closed the door behind her.

But Ron didn't even look over to watch her go. His eyes fixed on Hermione, he knitted his eyebrows together, the corners of his eyes wet and glistening...

"Are you... alright?" he asked Hermione, needing her to say it more than anything, more than seeing it.

She nodded weakly and very tentatively raised her hands towards him, her cheeks glowing pink. Accepting her invitation, Ron rushed forward and slid onto her bed a bit clumsily, his knees knocking into the mattress before he settled next to her, pausing another second before hugging her again. The smell of her hair filled his nostrils and his vision. It was all he could see from where his face was pressed into her curls.

"God, I'll kill her!" Ron shouted suddenly, squeezing Hermione tighter against him as rage shoved grief aside. Hermione squealed softly, and, horrified, Ron released her, his eyes wide as he stared down at her. "Did I hurt you?" His voice trembled as a string of curse words rattled around inside his head.

"No," she said gently, shifting on the bed so her back rested against the headboard. "You can't hurt me." He didn't quite believe her.

Ron's eyes flicked down to Hermione's chest. He had seen a dark bruise there earlier through a tear in her jumper.

"I don't know what I'm doing," Ron muttered to himself, frustratedly running a hand through his hair. "Just stay back. I don't want to-"

"Ron," Hermione half sobbed, interrupting him as she watched him, "you saved my life..."

"What?" Ron asked suddenly, looking up at her, startled.

"You did, didn't you..."

"I..." He hadn't thought of it that way before, had only acted out of fear and fury. His brain had not been functioning normally but had been consumed with something fiery and insane, like a fuse that had never been used before had been lit the moment he first heard her screams from above, out of his reach...

"You saved me," she repeated, looking awed but drained.

"Hermione..." Ron whimpered, unable to form any other words.

She was alive... and could that really be because of him, even in some small way? He honestly didn't care if it was true, didn't crave the glory or victory of having been her savior. And yet, he _was _in some way. He thought back to how he'd felt the night he'd saved Harry from the pool. It was only what he had to do. He had only acted out of impulse and need, not out of bravery or pride. But maybe they were all the same, all jumbled up into one big... _thing_... something he _had _been that he'd always thought he wasn't...

_Good_.

"Is everyone else alright?" Hermione asked suddenly, changing the subject.

"I think so... but I don't really know," Ron admitted, feeling guilty again. "I brought you up here and have been with you ever since..."

Hermione nodded in a very understanding way, but there was something else mixed into her soft and tired expression... something like joy... surprise, perhaps... admiration?

Ron ran his hands over his face, wiping away the remnants of his tears. He let out an unsteady breath through his fingers, and as he lowered his hands, he shut his eyes. He felt Hermione's fingers tugging his and he opened his eyes again to stare at her, letting all of his love for her spill from him, a dam bursting open as she gazed back at him, intertwining their fingers.

"I really fucked up," Ron blurted out.

Hermione shook her head very slightly, confused.

"I left you!" Ron whispered harshly, his eyes wide with horror, guilt seeping from every part of him. "And don't tell me again that you've forgiven me and I shouldn't think about it because I bloody well _will _still think about it! It's not like I just took a little walk and came right back. I left you for months, Hermione! Everything you said, when you were pissed with me when you saw me again, was totally _right _and I can't move past it! Even if _you've_ forgiven me, which you shouldn't have..."

"Ron, please," Hermione begged, her voice weak with the strain of speaking even as much as she had. "You don't understand..." she sighed, looking away from him as she visibly tried to think of how to explain things properly.

Ron waited patiently for her to go on, knowing that she would. When she looked up at him again, she had her speech ready, he could tell...

"The thing is, yes, you were a prat for leaving me... _us_," Hermione corrected, her cheeks glowing light pink again, "but you _did _come back. Ron, the point isn't the mistakes we've made but how we felt about what we did. I've made mistakes too-"

Ron opened his mouth to argue but Hermione shook her head to silence him.

"Of course I have! We all have..."

"Not like this," Ron said sadly.

"Is there really that big of a difference between them all though? You still did something without thinking, still left before you realized what the consequences might be. If you had thought about it, before you left, and knew that you wouldn't be able to come back... ever... would you have done it?"

"Of course not..."

"Exactly," Hermione whispered, smiling as tears pooled in her eyes again.

"But I might not have been able to come back! It's a miracle that Dumbledore managed to understand me well enough to give me the one thing that I needed to reach you again. And _you_... I hurt you so much Hermione... and I keep hurting you... over and over, year after year," Ron sighed, letting go of her hand, bunching her blanket in his fist loosely. "And do you know what happened to me when you were up _there_... and when we were... down in that dungeon... I could hear you _screaming _and..."

Ron choked on his own words and had to stop to catch his breath. Hermione watched him, tears welling more thickly in her eyes now.

"And I just kept thinking," Ron finally went on, "what if I had never found you, if I wasn't back yet and you and Harry were caught and taken to the Malfoys' place and all of _this _had happened while I was stuck _here... _sulking and hating myself... and you could have... could have _died _and I..." Ron's voice broke into a sudden and uncontrollable sob, one that ripped through his chest and almost drowned him, choking as he tried to breathe.

He felt Hermione's fingers lace into his again. The comfort of her touch caused his body to shake, more tears rushing quickly down his face to join their predecessors currently soaking the front of his t-shirt.

"G-give me one r-reason why you shouldn't h-hate me," Ron whispered as he hiccuped, still trembling with sobs.

"Because I..." Hermione began, but she stopped short as Ron's wet eyes met hers. She breathed through her mouth, her eyes widening very slightly as he stared at her, waiting for her to tell him what he needed to know, his eyes so fierce and bright and intense...

"You don't... have to..." Ron said slowly as he watched her, totally submerged beneath her as she looked into him, _everything _he was right there for her to see.

He didn't care anymore what she saw. He had lost the ability to fight it. She could know everything. Every question she could ever ask... he'd answer it now. He had never been so vulnerable... but so in control at the same time. He knew exactly what he was doing, letting her see him, letting her in on his secrets, his faults, every insecurity and fear. It wasn't something hidden beneath his humor and wit, nothing that she had to find and uncover. Not now. _Never again._

"I don't have to give you _one _reason, Ron," Hermione whispered. "There are millions."

Speechless didn't quite describe how Ron felt in that moment. He wanted to shout and scream so the whole world knew how much it meant to hear her say what she had. He felt as if he had been knocked off balance, dizzy and off track now that he had been hit with everything. And in one simple instant, watching her, feeling her hand tighten, trembling, in his own, he could almost see it. What he had done, the mistakes he had made, dissolved in thin air. It wasn't quite forgiveness that he afforded himself, but it was as close as he had ever come... and it was immediate.

He knew what she wanted. He knew that it was okay for him to show her that he wanted it too. She needed him now, and he wanted to absorb it thoroughly, now knowing that he would never again even start to build up the wall that he had been unknowingly constructing against her. Had it been out of fear of rejection, loss imminent if she knew how highly he held her, how much he worshiped her... or had it simply been some way of defining himself, of committing to really being the coward that he always assumed he was? So much had changed in this little room. His life weighed less inside the cage of his awkward body. He could feel his blood through his veins, the heat in his neck and ears, and it didn't even bother him.

"You should rest," Ron whispered, hardly sure if his words had really passed through his lips.

"Only if you stay with me," Hermione said bravely, and Ron nodded absently as he leaned forward, squeezing his long thin body onto the mattress next to her. Once again he found himself separated from her by a sheet, lying on top of it while she rested underneath it. But he felt her tugging at something and he looked down at her hands.

Without awareness, Ron rolled to the absolute edge of the bed, helping Hermione with the sheet and rolling back underneath it. As she lowered the sheet and blanket over their bodies and turned onto her side to face him, he froze, overly aware of this one physical barrier broken down to join all of the other internal ones that he had smashed tonight. And it was different - so much different in this little bed in this peaceful room - than it had been on top of the Astronomy Tower last year, sharing his enlarged jumper to keep from freezing to death.

With a thick swallow, Ron's arms circled Hermione and hers circled him. Their foreheads met on the pillow, their eyes locked. Sleep was coming, and other than the absolutely glorious feeling of his nervous, racing heart, he could think of no reason not to give in.

Close. Safe. Complete.

* * *

When they woke, it was to the sound of Fleur's sad voice in the hallway outside. They looked at each other, awake at the same instant as if their subconscious minds had been linked now, a bond that could not break or stretch.

"Harry," Hermione whispered, and Ron nodded.

They had a responsibility. They were not in the impenetrable bubble that they had slept inside of any longer. The world around them was edging into the room, forcing them to face it. And they would.

Now. Together.


	13. Before Gringotts

**Chapter 13 - Before Gringotts**

Ron flipped over in his sleeping bag for what had to be the hundredth time. He wasn't going to admit it aloud to Harry, but he was quite nervous about tomorrow. As exciting as it was, breaking into the most guarded wizarding location - besides perhaps Hogwarts - was about as terrifying as it could get. So many things could go wrong, but that had become the customary line for anything that the three of them planned together. It was never easy, never made a lot of sense, and certainly was never without plenty of gaping holes that could either be filled with success or utter failure.

In the back of his mind, Ron was also quite nervous about Hermione going with them. On one hand, he wanted to be close to her, to be able to see her at all times and know she was safe... but in a more logical way, he knew it would always be better for her to be somewhere protected than to be with him. He was starting to, on some level, understand why Harry had broken things off with Ginny. It was easier not to have to think about it, not to have to worry constantly... But then roughly, Ron shoved this thought aside, knowing that no matter what, he'd still... _love _Hermione. He couldn't just put her out of his mind by leaving her behind. It was absurd. Sighing softly, he realized that Harry _must _still love Ginny, that he had left her behind to save her life as he'd said, but that their break up had really just been one big lie. Harry wanted to be with her now as much as he ever had, Ron was sure.

But that was it. Here _Ron _was, lying on the floor in a dark and quiet house, and the girl he wanted was just upstairs... He didn't have to wonder where she was, if she was alright... didn't really have a choice in the end. As if Hermione would ever let him tell her to stay behind. He grinned in the darkness, remembering when, back at Grimmauld Place, a lifetime ago now it seemed, he'd suggested that maybe Hermione shouldn't accompany them to the Ministry. And he had had much more logical and sensible reasons for her to stay behind that time. But truthfully, he had known, even as he'd spoken the words, that she would never agree to it, that she'd come along no matter what he said. And wasn't that part of what he loved so much about her? _Part_... as if he could quantify what he felt into _parts_, like they all added up to what he felt now. No. It wasn't something that could be calculated by adding up the sum of parts. It just _was_...

Ron flinched at the sound of a shuffle against the wood floor behind the couch. Eyes wide, staring up at the back of the couch, he managed to just barely glimpse, in the moonlight coming in through the window, a brief bob of messy brown hair. Then another shuffle, barely audible, could be heard from closer to the end of the couch. He adjusted his body against the floor so he could peer down at the arm of the couch... just in time to see Hermione's head move slowly out to look at him. Her eyes widened when they met his wide open ones, and she gasped very softly as she half concealed herself again behind the sofa.

"Hermione?" Ron mouthed as he crawled over to the couch arm. As he looked around the edge, she pressed her back against the arm and clamped her eyes shut.

"Sorry," she half-whispered, half-moaned.

"Huh?" Ron began, confused, but at the sound of Harry turning over in his sleeping bag nearby, Ron grabbed his own bag and pulled it around the edge of the couch, taking Hermione by the arm and moving completely behind the couch so they were hidden from view. They rested their backs against the couch, Hermione to Ron's left, and they turned their heads towards each other, closer than they usually were when speaking...

"I woke you up," Hermione mouthed, but Ron shook his head enthusiastically, knitting his eyebrows together. "I didn't?" Hermione whispered timidly.

"No, was already up," Ron whispered back.

"What were you doing up? It's the middle of the night..." Hermione half-scolded, still whispering. Ron grinned and nudged her with his elbow. She narrowed her eyes at him.

"You're up too," Ron said through his grin. Hermione blinked at him _and _his logic. He continued to smile at her, their eyes locked, faces mere inches apart. What was it he had been worried about earlier...? He'd never remember now...

"I'm sorry, Ron, I couldn't sleep," Hermione finally said, sighing as she rested her head solidly against the couch back.

"Neither could I," Ron replied, stretching his legs out in front of him.

"It's not fair that you three have to sleep down here on the cold floor and we get nice beds every night upstairs..."

Ron shrugged.

"It's _not_..."

"I wouldn't take a bed even if you offered it," Ron said.

"Because I'm the g-" Hermione started to ask, her tone a bit annoyed, but she cut herself off. "You're too nice to me, Ron," she said instead, her voice almost a bit dreamy, relaxed...

He had not expected Hermione to give up so easily, not to fight with him. He took a moment to figure out what he should even say next. It was so easy to come up with the next line of an argument. They had had so much practice over the years. But it was different when she didn't do what he expected. And it had been happening far too much recently. He was beginning to feel like he was losing his grip on his own head...

"Uh..." he managed, feeling profoundly stupid for how his brain seemed to completely abandon him at the most ridiculous times. "Thought you were going to keep rowing with me," Ron admitted finally, realizing for what had to be the hundredth time that it was quite a bit easier to just say what he was thinking when he didn't try to over-think it first. But even that little line of logic made him dizzy...

It therefore took him an extra moment to comprehend it when Hermione's trembling fingers mingled with his and held on tightly. His hand suddenly felt like it was on fire.

"Ron, c-can I... admit something to you?" Hermione whispered almost inaudibly.

"Yeah," Ron croaked back. As usual, when he felt her nervousness in the air around him, when he was waiting on an answer to an unasked question, his brain clicked into gear and began to zoom through options, possibilities... _Stop_, he insisted, trying to slow the triple fast beating of his heart...

"I don't know if I can do it... tomorrow I mean..." Hermione whispered nervously.

"Do what?" Ron managed to ask, once again trying to decipher the message she was sending him.

"When I have to... be _her_."

It all suddenly made sense. He had thought of this before, admired the fact that she was going through with this, accepting a plan that involved salting a wound that was still so fresh it had barely stopped bleeding. It was incredible that she could even consider it...

"Oh, yeah," Ron said, his thumb moving against her knuckles for something to do... It felt comforting even to him, and he hoped that she could feel some of that as well...

She shivered lightly next to him and closed her eyes. He allowed his own eyes to move over her face, every feature, knowing that she couldn't see what he was doing. And then slowly, he began to realize something... he was comfortable, happy, calm. He hadn't felt that in a very long time. Sure there had been moments when he'd felt relief, joy over seeing that Hermione was okay when he'd feared the worst in Malfoy Manor... when he'd returned to her and she'd hit him, screamed at him... it had been a small piece of perfection that he had held onto so tightly.

But now, this moment... it was something different. It was like they had already been together for years, been sharing everything with only each other. It was like he had already told her, all the hard bits were over and done with. She knew he loved her more than life. And he knew she loved him too, just the same, as absurd as that seemed to him.

And maybe she did. Maybe she _really_...

He choked as he tried to take in a deep breath, and his attempt to overcome it resulted in a strangled cough. Hermione opened her eyes and looked back into his now, a bit concerned.

"Sorry," Ron mouthed, still recovering.

A shuffle behind them signified that someone, Dean or Harry, must have heard Ron and was now either awake or restless. Ron and Hermione froze until the sounds died once again to the atmospheric silence of the living room.

"I should go back to bed," Hermione sighed softly.

"No!" Ron said a bit too loudly. He cursed under his breath as he waited to see if he had woken anyone, but when there were no sounds from behind him, he sighed to match Hermione's. "I don't know what I'm saying, sorry. You _should _go back to bed. Shouldn't be up all night before..."

Hermione glanced away from the unfinished sentence.

"Look," Ron said slowly, tugging Hermione's hand and pulling her even further away from Harry and Dean's light snoring, all the way to the back wall just under the window. Moonlight flooded their faces and gave them a much better view of each other here. "You know you don't have to do it. You can call it off and-" but Hermione cut him off.

"I would never do that, Ron," she said. "I'm not trying to back out. I just... I don't know. I felt like... I could... tell you what I was _really _feeling."

"Yeah!" Ron said quickly, nodding. "Of course you can." He smiled at her and she smiled back, visibly relaxing, her hand still in his.

He realized briefly, as he opened his mouth to go on speaking, that he wasn't thinking it through, wasn't over-analyzing how he'd respond to help her. He knew she needed his comfort, but it was finally clear to him that his words weren't really what mattered. He didn't have to be smooth and articulate. He didn't have to say exactly the right combination of things to _fix _her. She just needed... _him_.

He dropped her hand and draped his arm over her shoulders instead as they leaned back in unison against the wall, Hermione's bent knees falling against Ron's side as he stretched out his legs.

"Me and Harry will be there with you. It'll be like playing a game. And then it'll be over before you know it. And we'll have another horcrux, another bit closer to ending it all. And when it's finally over..."

Hermione looked over at Ron expectantly. He swallowed, worked up the courage to continue. It wasn't difficult, which was a shock to him. It was no longer a struggle. He had changed. Something had ripped open his heart, not in a painful way, but just enough so he could let go. He had felt it before, but now it was a gaping wound never to be closed... unless she told him to.

"We... we'll go someplace nice. I... I'll take you."

"Where?" Hermione asked softly, a gentle smile spreading across her face, one that he could read so well in the moonlight. She was happy. Truly happy. And it was all because of him.

As a wave of pleasure coursed through his veins, he was instantly energized, like her happiness was infectious. He felt more alive than ever, more confident that they'd be alright. And he knew it would show in his voice as he continued...

"Where do you want to go? We could go to the beach. I haven't really had a proper beach holiday in a long time."

"Mmm, that would be nice. Maybe somewhere really warm, Italy or..." Hermione's voice faded.

"Australia?" Ron offered. Hermione nodded. "Settled. We'll go together, me and you, and get your parents and then after that... we'll have a holiday."

"What about Harry?" Hermione asked, smirking slightly. Ron grinned.

"He'll be fine. I reckon he and Ginny'll be back together a few minutes after we get rid of You-Know-Who."

"Ron-" Hermione began, shifting under his arm and looking up at him. But he shook his head, knowing what she was thinking before she said it.

"I don't mind, Harry and Ginny I mean. I realized something, you know... they really do love each other."

"How do you know?" Hermione asked softly.

Ron's eyes met hers and he could hardly blink. His heart began to race again, his temperature rose... He began to speak somehow. Later he'd wonder how he'd ever been able to consciously manage it...

"I promise, I'll tell you. Really, really soon. I'll tell you. Just trust me..."

For an agonizing moment, one that seemed to stretch on forever, Hermione said nothing, just continued to look back into his eyes. But then, finally, to Ron's relief, she nodded, tears welling in the corners of her eyes... and she fell against him, her arms wrapping tightly around his torso, head buried against the side of his neck.

He held her for what could have been hours, his heart slowly returning to a regular beat.

After a while, Harry or Dean began to shuffle against the floor across the room. Ron's eyes were heavy now, just when everyone else was having trouble sleeping. He couldn't really remember why he had felt so restless before, or what there even was to worry about.

He squeezed Hermione more tightly against his chest, and she responded by tightening her own arms, then pulling back to wipe her eyes, a sleepy smile on her face. She moved away only long enough to rearrange Ron's sleeping bag on the floor, unzipping it so it became a blanket rather than a bag. Following her lead, Ron crawled across the rug to the couch and sat up on his knees, reaching over the back of the couch to pull a cushion off to use as a pillow, thinking it best not to risk going all the way back around the couch to get his actual pillow, the one he had abandoned in his haste to talk to Hermione without waking Harry or Dean.

Hermione slid her legs under the sleeping bag and waited as Ron slid under next to her, tossing the pillow behind them. They laid back together, heads touching on the pillow, staring up at the ceiling. The rough plaster of the ceiling formed points at which the moonlight from the window reflected rather brightly, giving a strange illusion of stars inside the house. It was hypnotizing in a way. And as they stared up at it, Hermione took Ron's hand again under the blanket. He squeezed her fingers, turning his head to meet her eyes again, smiling.

"Better wake me up before Bill and Fleur find us..." Hermione warned.

Ron shrugged against the rug.

"You don't mind?" Hermione asked, obviously trying to suppress a grin.

"Not really," Ron admitted.

Hermione's smile moved all the way up to her eyes now, and Ron blinked lazily at her, her hair tickling his skin as she shifted slightly.

"Thank you," Hermione said softly.

"What for?" Ron asked sleepily.

"For being you."

"Can't help that, can I," Ron joked, grinning as he rested his forehead against Hermione's.

His eyes shut. The world fell to peaceful darkness. And love wasn't just something inside his own heart anymore, something he hid from the world as if it could hurt him... knowing in some ways that it _could_, that it could actually _destroy _him if given the chance. But not tonight. Tonight he was free.


	14. The Final Battle, Part 1

_**A/N:** I can't even believe I'm finally posting this. I am so sorry I made everyone wait so long! That was insane... I only have one or two chapters left, so this is my focus, until it's finished. I don't know when I'll post the next one, but I can promise you, it won't be a month from now, and hopefully, not even a few weeks from now. Forgive me for my ridiculous antics... I'm back on track now. And thanks so much to anyone who's still out there, waiting to read this. *hugs*_

_**A/N #2:** If you came to read this chapter and found something completely weird and unrelated here in place of it, that's because I'm a big idiot, and when I went back to fix a mistake in the original posting, I accidentally copied over the chapter with the latest chapter of my story "Stitches" instead, so I'm very sorry if anyone was confused. THIS is the correct chapter now.  
_

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**Chapter 14 - The Final Battle, Part 1**

They raced through the castle, just the two of them, a broom tucked under Ron's arm. Hermione felt sick and exhausted, but somehow alive and still running, still moving, supported on her legs by a strange force. Perseverance. Or hope, if she dared to hope that's what it was.

What if this actually worked? !

They hadn't completely thought it through, she was realizing. She had taken in Ron's excited smile and frantic linking of his arm with hers, and she'd just dropped all logic and rationality. But now, they were almost there, and it was time to consider how this was going to work, exactly.

"Ron," Hermione panted as she turned the corner with him, down the corridor that led to Moaning Myrtle's bathroom.

"Yeah?" he panted back.

"How, exactly, are we going to get _inside _the Chamber?"

"Thought about that," Ron said between breaths as they reached the door and skidded to a stop. "Might be a long shot, but I'm going to try to remember what Harry said in Parseltongue to open it."

Hermione froze and watched Ron's back moving ahead into the bathroom. The rickety door banged open and it only took a short breath for him to sense she was no longer walking with him. He reached back to hold the door open and stared out into the corridor at her shocked expression and parted lips.

"Don't reckon I can pull it off?" he asked, and she was ready to defend the arrangement of her stunned facial features when he tilted his lips to the side, eyes soft and teasing.

"I believe in you. Always have," she said, though it wasn't necessary, not as a follow-up to a lighthearted joke. So she'd given him a compliment, for no reason. There. She was getting braver. And now, she figured, it was his move.

He blushed at her directness and looked away as he continued to hold the door ajar with one long arm, waiting for her to pass through. He led her up to the sinks and stared at the snake-decorated faucets with a look of pure concentration. She bit her lip at the sight, a reflection on his face now of how she always felt before an exam.

"Okay..." he said, transferring his weight from foot to foot. He took a deep breath, and out came a very strangled hiss. It wasn't quite what Hermione remembered Harry sounding like, the few times she'd been present for some Parseltongue, so she was fairly certain Ron had done it wrong, but she kept her mouth shut, waiting.

They stood frozen together, staring at the sinks for a long moment. Ron sighed.

"Knew that wasn't it," he said, and he licked his lips.

"I think," Hermione began slowly, "that the language has more of an ease to it."

"Yeah," Ron said, "because most people who use it actually speak it fluently, don't they."

He had a point.

"Loosen up a bit," she suggested.

He shook his arms and stared at the snake on the faucet again.

"Inspiration," he shrugged before taking another deep breath and trying it again.

It sounded a lot more natural this time, and for a second, Hermione's eyes filled with anticipation as she held her breath, waiting.

But nothing happened.

Ron ran a hand through his hair and sighed again.

"This might take a while," he said apologetically, glancing over at Hermione.

"Try it again," she urged. "I know you can do it."

"Cheers," Ron smiled, and he tried it again before he could think about it.

Still nothing.

And fifteen minutes later, he was starting to get a bit frustrated.

"It's not like I have to think back to second year!" he complained. "Harry used the same words on the locket," but he blushed brilliantly as he concluded his statement.

"Harry opened the locket before you destroyed it?" Hermione asked.

Oh, this was a good way in, her way to get him talking about it. If she could just get him to give her a few more little details, maybe she could piece something together. It had been killing her slowly, not knowing what had happened out there in the forest while she'd been sleeping, dreaming of his back disappearing into darkness before he'd Apparated away from her cries...

"Yeah," Ron said, shrugging and avoiding her gaze. His concentration face returned in full force, and Hermione resisted the urge to ask him anything else about the locket. She'd find out. Oh, yes she would.

But when?

She huffed softly, automatically, and instantly, she regretted it. He seemed to lose a bit of confidence at the sound, and she wasn't sure he'd understood the _cause _of her frustration, now that she thought about it.

"You'll get it, Ron," she said, in an effort to clear up any confusion. He just nodded and tried again...

After a moment of silence, he looked over at Hermione sadly.

"I guess this is where I suggest we go back and find Harry," Ron began, "and get him to come down here with-"

There was a loud, echoing click, followed by a shuffling series of stone-against-stone bangs. And Ron and Hermione's heads snapped round to the sinks again at the same moment... the sinks, which were now rapidly turning and dropping to reveal a dark hole straight down into... well, it was impossible to make out what.

"Ron!" Hermione screamed. "You did it!"

He looked down at her, stunned.

"Goddamned genius," he breathed, awed.

Hermione burst out laughing and hugged him quickly, pulling back before her blush turned serious.

"What now?" she asked excitedly, looking anywhere but directly at Ron.

"We jump down," he shrugged.

"You've got to be joking!" Hermione squeaked, eyes suddenly very wide.

"It's like a slide, sort of," Ron reassured her. "You won't fall."

She still felt far too skeptical. She peered down again, stomach knotting up a bit.

"I'll go first, yeah?" Ron suggested, nudging her gently with his elbow. "Then, if I die, you'll know not to follow me."

"Ron!"

He chuckled.

"It's fine, honestly!" He grinned, and then, before she could reply, he leapt forward, disappearing from sight down the hole.

Hermione gasped and covered her mouth with both hands as she stared down after him, unwilling to blink. It seemed to take an eternity for her to hear him thud to a stop. The room fell silent.

"Are you okay? !" she called shakily.

"Yeah!" he called back, clearly from quite a distance down. His voice reverberated off the walls of the cavernous drop she continued to stare into. "Come on! It's safe, I promise!"

She let out a shaky breath that turned into a terrified squeak. But, trusting him with everything, she closed her eyes... and jumped.

Her robes billowed around her as she slid down, down, much too far. She kept her eyes sealed tightly shut as her hands slipped along slimy stone on either side of her body. And then, after what felt like a lifetime, she glided off the edge of the stone... and into a pile of rubbish.

"Uh!" she exclaimed as she was suddenly submerged in filth. But then, she felt two large hands on her upper arms, pulling her to her feet.

"Okay?" he asked her as she opened her eyes.

"That was disgusting," she complained, wrinkling her nose. He grinned at her and she forgot what she'd been complaining about...

"You've got a bit of..." and he reached up, brushed his thumb across her cheek.

She only realized she'd stopped breathing when he dropped his arm again and beckoned her forward with a tilt of his head and a muttered 'c'mon'.

She followed him out of the rubbish they'd landed on, past huge, dry snake skins and a small pile of animal bones.

"Were you afraid," she asked, "when you were here before, with Harry and Lockhart?"

"A bit," Ron admitted. "But I was so scared for Ginny, and so angry about Lockhart, and I think those feelings outweighed the terror, for the most part."

They continued down the damp, dark corridor, climbing over piles of rock when they reached the point at which Ron had been trapped with Lockhart. And suddenly, Hermione wanted nothing more than to take Ron's hand. If she thought hard, she could imagine what that would feel like, how it would warm her and comfort her to do just one little intimate thing, just one. But could she really do it?

And then, she realized... she'd been waiting for _his _move, after her little compliment, not to mention that embarrassingly spontaneous hug she'd given him. Well, he'd made a move just a moment ago, hadn't he. He'd cleaned dirt off her face with his thumb... and blushed scarlet.

She grabbed his hand and held on tight, catching his glance of surprised delight as he tightened his own grip.

"Almost to the doors," Ron said, clearing his throat, and she could make out a hint of a smile as he turned his head forward, though he was trying to hide it.

And then, almost immediately, they turned down a final corridor, at the end of which were two very large snake-adorned doors.

"Damn it," Ron muttered. "I'll have to remember the Parseltongue again. That's how Harry made it through these, too. I'd forgotten that."

"Oh, well you've done it once. You've got it now," Hermione shrugged without a hint of hesitation. And, raising his eyebrows, Ron looked down at her with a smile, hand still very much in hers.

They reached the doors, and he reluctantly dropped her hand. And she knew just how reluctantly, because he gave her a sad look as he let go... and then...

"Ya know, so I won't be distracted," he explained.

Well, that certainly counted as a 'move'. Which made it her turn again. And she'd hardly had time to calm down after making her last one...

She shivered.

And Ron spoke absolutely perfect Parseltongue.

And the doors opened with a loud series of unfriendly clicks.

And they were suddenly face to face with the Chamber of Secrets.

As they passed through the doors, the temperature dropped a few degrees. And before them, the remains of a massacre lay stretched across pools of dirty water.

"Oh, God..." Hermione gasped as she took in the sight of the dead snake, blood caked in thick blotches all over its head, several of its teeth missing, inches from its mouth, where dead gums had rotted away to almost nothing.

Ron took her hand again as they slowly approached the scene.

"Reckon we'll have to pull more teeth out?" Ron cringed.

"I... guess so..." Hermione shuttered.

"I'll do it," Ron said with a squeeze of her hand before he dropped it again. And, stepping closer to the dead snake, he withdrew his wand. With a few swishes, the rest of the fangs loosened and fell with repetitive clatters to the dungeon floor.

Ron dropped the broom he'd been carrying and reached into his pocket for Hufflepuff's cup.

"Want to get rid of it down here? Might as well, yeah?"

"Might as well," Hermione echoed.

Was it her turn, to destroy one? After all, Ron and Harry had both had a go. And in a way, she wanted to be the one to do this one. It had been in Bellatrix's vault after all. It somehow meant more to her than she figured it did to Ron or Harry, to destroy something that had been guarded by the woman who had tortured her without an ounce of remorse. And then, guiltily, she remembered Sirius.

"Do you think Harry will want to do this one?" Hermione asked, and Ron furrowed his eyebrows. "It was in _her _vault, and _she _killed Sirius," Hermione explained.

"She also tortured _you_," Ron pointed out, voice laced with the hatred he also felt for Bellatrix. "And besides, Harry's had a turn already."

"Are you sure," Hermione began, "sure it should be me?"

Ron nodded.

"You ought to," and he stretched his arm out towards her.

She smiled.

"Thank you..."

She reached for the cup, but he pulled back.

"Wait. You should know, I'm not just being altruistic here."

She smirked and raised an eyebrow at him.

"Big word!"

He shoved her playfully and rolled his eyes.

"It's just, I did one before, didn't I. And it... well... it wasn't pleasant. But I don't think that'll happen to you, not the same way at least. Harry didn't have such a bad time of destroying the diary."

She raised her eyebrows, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Oh, he didn't?" she questioned sarcastically.

"Well, maybe killing a Basilisk wasn't a picnic, but the actual Horcrux bit..." He trailed off, and she studied him carefully.

She needed answers. It was time. It had to be. Because she couldn't wait any longer.

"Ron, what happened when you destroyed the locket?"

She could tell he had sensed her question before she asked it, and his anguished expression at the mention of the locket nearly made her take back her question. But he shot her an apologetic look after a second and she held her breath.

"Later," he said, and she deflated. "I promise I'll tell you later. But let's just-"

"Don't you think I should know," she reasoned, "in case it happens to me? Just in case?"

She knew she was playing a card she shouldn't, implying that he had to tell her for her own safety, but she was so overwhelmed with curiosity...

"It's not like that," Ron said quickly. "It doesn't _do _anything to you, doesn't hurt you..."

"Ron..." she breathed, begging him as she locked eyes with him. He didn't want to tell her. Not now. Why was she making this so difficult for him? She knew she needed to back down, to drop it...

But then his expression turned from resistance to surrender in a heartbeat and he ran a nervous hand through his hair.

"Okay," he sighed shakily, "but you have to promise me that after I tell you, you won't say a thing... and we can get rid of this bloody cup and get out of here."

She felt a wave of irrational fear course through her, and she wasn't sure she could really do what he was asking.

"Ron..."

"Please."

And she held her breath. He needed her to do this. And he was going to tell her. She could see how hard this was for him. She'd do anything he asked... she had to.

"Okay," she nodded. "I promise."

He swallowed visibly and took a long moment just to breathe.

"Harry asked me to destroy it, the locket. He thought it ought to be me, after I'd saved him and the sword from the pool. I didn't want to do it. I asked him to let me off the hook. But he said it was meant to be me."

Ron paused, looked down at his feet, and breathed heavily once more. And for a moment, Hermione wondered if he was even going to continue. But he looked up, not quite directly at her, and he continued quickly, as if the rush of words was there ready to escape, and he simply had to push them through before he changed his mind.

"I know now why he said that. I could feel it too. It changed me, when I wore it. It made me feel things I... things I felt but thought I'd never be able to confront. Reasons why I was worthless."

Hermione's eyes watered as she listened to him. She wanted to scream of how wrong he had been, but she had to let him finish.

"When Harry opened the locket, I froze. It... sort of... came at me. Everything all at once. I saw... things. I saw you and Harry. You were..."

He paused, squinting against his tears.

"You told me what I'd feared. Told me all of it was true. You kissed him, kissed Harry. And it all made sense to me. It was so obvious. Who was I compared to him? And you loved him instead."

"Why?" Hermione whispered. Her heart was now somewhere near the stone floor beneath their feet. How could she have missed it? How could she have let him think those things and not been there to shout the truth? If she had only told him, so long ago, how wrong he was...

"Because he's Harry Potter," Ron said, logic thickly entwined with his words. He finally looked directly at Hermione, and she could see how red his cheeks were, freckles less pronounced across the bridge of his flushed nose. "And I'm Ron Weasley."

She gazed at him, eyes meeting for longer than she'd let them in quite some time, since before he'd left her... left _them_.

Her lips parted, ready to finally admit to everything, but then she remembered her promise. He had told her these things now only because she'd agreed not to say anything afterwards. Hadn't he known how hard that would be for her?

"Right," Ron said with a heavy sniff. "I'm sick of holding this piece of dark wizard soul. Let's do this."

He brushed his sleeve covered wrist roughly over his eyes, but before he could bring his arm down to see her again, she was hugging him. She felt him stiffen with alarm before dropping his arm around her shoulders and squeezing back. But all too soon, she stepped back from him again, wiping her own tear filled eyes on her sleeve. He watched her, eyes wide, stunned as she sniffed too.

"You know we're going to talk about this later," she said, making sure her words were a clear statement and nothing bordering on a question.

Ron laughed.

"Yeah, I know," he said, smiling lopsidedly. And the sad tension that had been threatening to overtake the whole of the dungeon vaporized instantly and drifted away, leaving them standing comfortably two feet away from each other.

"Okay," she said, nodding and smiling back, "hand it here." She stretched out her right hand and he pressed the cup to her palm.

"Stab it as hard as you can," he instructed as she bent to pick up one of the Basilisk fangs that littered the chamber floor. "And do it quickly. Don't stop to think about it."

She nodded as she located a flat section of rock on which to balance the cup. She positioned herself on her knees, just in front of the cup, fang raised.

"If it tries anything, just, ya know, remember what it is... what we're here to do," Ron said quietly as he knelt beside her, and Hermione nodded.

It took her a moment to feel ready, but as soon as she was, just when she was raising the fang a bit higher to give it the best stab possible, the cup twitched. And she gasped.

"Just do it quickly," Ron instructed, wide eyes glued to the cup.

And Hermione sensed his fear. That alone might have been what made her do it so quickly, gave her the strength to plunge the fang so forcefully into the center of the cup. These bloody things had been the reason he'd left her, really. And if she'd loathed the Horcruxes before, she had even more hatred for what they stood for now, for all the things they'd taken away from her. And most of all, for all the things they'd made him believe. What they'd taken from him. From _them_.

Eyes narrowed, she watched as the fang dug deep into the metal of the cup, slicing through it in a way that seemed quite impossible. And angry tears pooled in her eyes as she watched thick black blood drip from the wound she had made, thickly gathering until she felt no more resistance where the fang pressed against her palm.

It was over. She'd done it. She let the fang fall from her hand to the stone floor.

And as they watched the smoking remains of the Horcrux, they began to laugh, bodies shaking.

"Another one down!" Ron shouted triumphantly. "Let's go tell Harry!"

"Gather as many fangs as you can carry," Hermione said as she began to crawl around on the damp stone floor, bunching the front of her cloak and dropping fangs into the pouch she'd created.

Ron crawled around beside her, pocketing fangs and clutching some under his arm, careful to keep the sharp points away from his skin.

"Ready?" Hermione asked as she stood, adjusting her cloak to keep a better grip on the fangs she had collected.

"Ready," Ron said as he reached for the broom. "You'd better sit in front of me."

She blushed as she nodded, swinging her leg as gracefully as she could muster over the broom and waiting for Ron to settle behind her.

"Can you take a few of these?" he asked, and she glanced back over her shoulder as he shifted uncomfortably, trying to hold the fangs and balance at the same time.

She quickly reached back and took all of the fangs from his arms, suddenly terrified that he wouldn't be able to hold on to her too with such a heavy burden. She blushed deeper crimson at her own thoughts, but then she felt one of his arms wrap tentatively around her waist, under her fang-filled cloak.

"So you won't fall," he said by way of explanation, as if he had to find an excuse to hold on to her. She leaned back against his chest and shivered as she clutched her cloak more tightly shut to prevent any of the fangs from spilling over.

And then, with a jolt, they were in the air, soaring upwards. Her hair flew back behind her, and she could feel it tangling against him. She tried to shake her head to adjust it, but it was no use. Her hair was everywhere, sweeping across his face as they climbed higher.

"Can you see?" she asked, voice shaking.

"Yeah! No problem," he said reassuringly.

After a long pause, she pressed herself even closer to him, her back digging into his chest.

"Alright?" he asked.

"Yes. Don't let me go," she said, feeling like a small child, so scared of something so ridiculous, something Ron felt perfectly comfortable with. It was embarrassing. But he simply squeezed her even tighter, almost painfully so.

"Never," he said, and she had suddenly never felt safer.

A moment later, they were zooming up the long slide they had fallen down to reach the Chamber in the first place, and she could make out a light at the end of the tunnel. Relief flooded her... followed by guilty remorse at knowing that he'd soon let her go. Too soon, because they were slowing down and reentering the bathroom before she knew it. She felt Ron's feet hit the floor... and his arm - reluctantly? - releasing her.

"Harry'll be so proud," Ron said with a grin as he took some of the fangs back from Hermione and tucked the broom under his arm. "Let's go."

And they ran.

And all she wanted was to disappear, where it was all over, and it was just the two of them. Was it her move yet? Was it her turn?

Her head spun as she tried to replay everything, tried to remember. And then, suddenly, it didn't matter whose turn it was. She opened her mouth to tell him something, anything, just so he'd understand. But before she could utter a word, Harry turned a corner up ahead and spotted them, relief flooding his face as he ran towards them.

Soon...

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_**A/N:** You may have noticed that there was no sleeping, but it's coming up next! That's why this is a "Part 1" ;)_


	15. The Final Battle, Part 2

_**A/N: **Gosh, you guys. Here is it, at last. An update. And to be honest, I think I'm going to do another chapter. Just one more... I see it in my head and know what it could be, so yeah. I... I probably will :)_

_Thank you so, so much for sticking this out with me and I really hope you enjoy this new chapter!_

_I'm dedicating this one to my ff[dot]net pal **ObsessedRHShipper**. Hope you're having a fantastic start to a new year and that your birthday was super awesomely fantastic! xx_

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**Chapter 15 - The Final Battle, Part 2**

"Hang on a moment!" Ron shouted, stopping in his tracks. "We've forgotten someone!"

In all the chaos, he wasn't sure why he'd suddenly remembered them, but he had. And of course, they had to do something. The three of them were really the only ones who could, at the moment.

"Who?" asked Hermione, turning to look up at him.

"The house-elves, they'll all be down in the kitchen, won't they?" Ron explained, logically.

"You mean we ought to get them fighting?" asked Harry.

"No," Ron said, quite seriously. "I mean we should tell them to get out. We don't want anymore Dobbies, do we? We can't order them to die for us-"

But from there, nothing else really registered, because seconds later, he hardly had time to gasp at how close one of Hermione's discarded Basilisk fangs had come to stabbing through his trainer before she was off the floor and in his arms. A series of clatters surrounded him - the rest of the fangs? - and he was suddenly holding Hermione in his arms, and...

Wait. WHAT.

Kissing.

Hermione.

He melted against her with a sigh, squeezing her tighter against his chest - was that physically possible? Was this really happening? He must have dropped the things he was once holding - the broom and his own collection of fangs - but he couldn't remember doing it. He was holding Hermione off the floor, her feet dangling against his shins. Her arms gripped his neck so forcefully it might have been painful if he wasn't so incredibly distracted by pleasure.

But. Why now?

Surely he didn't have enough logic left at the moment to answer questions such as that. And he smiled against her lips as she clutched him tighter still, her hands seemingly everywhere.

...was someone speaking? He wasn't sure. Sod it anyway. He was kissing Hermione!

"OI!"

Ron reluctantly opened his eyes and moved half an inch away from her, separating their lips, and lowering her gently back to the floor.

Right. Harry. Harry was here. They were... in the middle of a war? Yes, that was right. Okay...

"There's a war going on here!" Harry shouted, cementing the newly remembered fact into Ron's mind.

"I know, mate," Ron said, looking into Hermione's eyes.

They were _so _close. He was sure he'd _never _been this close to her eyes before. He could hardly breathe. He might have been borderline drunk, somehow... actually. It was the closest thing to this new, perfect feeling that he could ever recall experiencing... "So it's now or never, isn't it?"

"Never mind that, what about the Horcrux?" Harry shouted. "D'you think you could just - just hold it in until we've got the diadem?"

Ron wasn't sure if he felt his cheeks burning from the amazing, incredible, _perfect _thing that had just happened, or because it had to happen at what was arguably the _worst _possible moment, because now they had to _stop_. It was completely unfair. But completely true. And he slowly untangled himself from Hermione who looked like she wasn't going to regain the ability to speak for some time yet. She was so damn brilliant, he just wanted to fly away from all of this with her and kiss her approximately infinity more times...

But instead, he looked away from her lips, her eyes, her rosy skin...

"Yeah - right - sorry," he said, gathering fangs as his heart pounded in his ears.

And then they were running...

* * *

She couldn't think straight. They'd survived. But... nothing felt right. Nothing at all.

Somehow, she'd gotten from the ruins of the castle to the Burrow and was perched on the edge of a camp bed, sunset glowing around Ginny's silent room. She wasn't sure what she'd expected, or where she should go from here. All she could do was collapse onto the bed and close her eyes, trying her best to release everything she couldn't stop thinking about, couldn't stop reliving... a strange combination of sorrow and fear and dreams coming true...

Ron's face as Fred fell to the castle floor... debris and dust falling, coating their clothes as they ran... and his blue eyes, shining and wide, an inch from her own... her lips encased by his...

* * *

She woke up the next morning absolutely freezing, with no recollection of falling asleep. She blinked and tried to sit up, but everything ached. She was calmed momentarily by the sound of Ginny's soft snores. But soon, it wasn't nearly enough just to know they were alive and it was over. She needed him.

She stood from the bed, wincing, but ignoring the pain she felt, and she left Ginny to sleep alone, creeping down the silent hallway towards the stairs...

But then, suddenly, she stopped, frozen. He hadn't come for her. He'd slept alone, floors above her. And he hadn't said a thing about what had happened between them. She suddenly felt selfish and needy, and it was wrong to go to him now. All the wrong thoughts were jumbled inside her head, weren't they? He'd lost his brother! And she thought she needed _him_?

If _he _needed _her_, he'd come to her. And he hadn't. So he didn't.

So, she crept back into Ginny's room, sat on the edge of her bed, and drifted off with her own thoughts...

* * *

She spent the next day alone, wandering the grounds of the Burrow, trying to read, and catching Harry's eyes where he sat on the porch with Ginny. It wasn't until dinner that she saw Ron again.

His face was stained from crying, and he wouldn't look directly at her. She felt her heart drop as she wondered if they'd broken before they'd really been fixed.

But she didn't have time to think about it for long. She was soon upstairs, dressing in all black, trying to hold back a bit of each breath to keep from breaking down... in case he _did _need her.

* * *

The ceremony was short, and concluded with a round of George's fireworks. Hermione wasn't sure she'd actually seen George at all since the battle had ended, and today, he looked almost unrecognizable. She realised that her eyes were too frequently wandering to back of Ron's head, where he was huddled with his siblings in silent sobs. Fred was gone, and that was never going to change.

She wanted to go to him, to tell him how sorry she was, but it meant nothing to apologize. She hadn't been the cause of his grief. And she had no way to cure it. She found his hand wrapped around hers later, as he held onto Harry. She wasn't sure how it had gotten there, but her body felt lighter than air as he clung to her. But then, before she'd had nearly enough time to breathe properly, it was over, and she was clearing the yard of chairs and discarded cloaks, Harry following her silently until night fell.

She looked for Ron, until she approached his closed bedroom door, silence echoing from the other side. Not wanting to disturb him, she paused for a long breath, contemplating his solitary grieving. She wanted him to know she was there for him. She didn't want him to think she hadn't made an effort, or that she wasn't available. And so, reaching into her back pocket, she retrieved a scrap of parchment, an old habit from her school days still lingering... carrying parchment and quills on her wherever she went. She'd almost laugh at the way she'd clung to routine, but she had more important things to do.

She wrote a quick note, not bothering to sign it, taking a moment to revel in knowing he'd recognize her handwriting without a doubt.

_I'm here for you, if you need me_, she wrote, and she left the tiny scrap of parchment hovering in the air at what she concluded was approximately Ron's eye level, just outside his door.

And without another pause, she went to bed alone, clutching her blanket up under her chin.

* * *

"Hermione?"

She blinked twice and sat up in bed, drawn to the sound of his voice. He was standing in the doorway to Ginny's room, looking exhausted.

"Ron?" she called back, as if she couldn't quite believe he was here, and that she could actually hear him. She felt like she was still trapped in her dreams, the echoes of distant screams and sobs physically draining all recovery she might have received in rest, leaving her as worn down as if she hadn't slept for a moment.

She sat up further and brushed loose hair out of her eyes. Ron cleared his throat and nodded unnecessarily - he existed, still.

She smiled softly at him, no idea how to continue or what he was here for. But she felt a weight lift at the mere sight of him, watching her from across the room.

"I'm sorry to wake you," he whispered, but she shook her head and tried to smile. To her astonishment, he returned it, moving into the room until he was standing feet away from her. "Saw your note. I just thought we could... talk?"

She glided out of bed, towards him, no need to answer with words. It didn't matter that it was the middle of the night, or that she was wearing far too little... She'd been waiting for him to find her, and he had. And it was perfect.

He took her hand, not meeting her eyes. Her stomach dropped pleasurably, fluttering as he tugged her back towards the door, leading her up the stairs towards his dark, silent room at the very top. As she followed him inside, she pondered the fact that she'd never been alone with him here before. It was somehow more intimate than she'd realised, just being here with him... being _allowed_...

He dropped her hand and sat on the edge of his narrow bed, looking up through pale lashes as he waited for her to sit with him. With a tentative smile, she joined him, scooting an inch closer until their thighs were pressed together. She froze, waiting for him to move away, but instead, she felt him relax his muscles, and she caught him glancing at her before he turned his head forward, to stare down at the floor.

Her heart pounded as she waited for him to speak, nerves on higher alert than usual. It wasn't just the war, but the idea that now that it was over, there would be no more waiting. At least, she hoped...

"I feel like... I think... I've been a bit of a prat to you," he said, gently, and she leaned back a few inches with shock. It might have been the last thing she'd been expecting...

"Ron, what are you on about? !" she demanded. "Of _course_you haven't-"

"I didn't want our lives to start off like this," he interrupted simply, turning to look at her fully, a soft, sad expression melting across his face.

"Of course you didn't," she nearly whispered, "but it's not your fault. It doesn't make you a prat that..." but she couldn't say the words. He didn't seem to require them, and he nodded, though she knew it wasn't in _acceptance _of her words, merely in understanding.

"I just realised..." he continued, "even though I'm here, I've sort of left you alone again, and I never wanted to do that. Ever."

It didn't make sense to her. He'd needed time for himself, hadn't he? And that wasn't anything to be ashamed of... or to apologize for. But then he was Ron, and she was starting to see a lot of things in him that she'd somehow missed before, or simply glossed over.

"I wanted to give you some space," she explained, "I thought that's what you... wanted," but as she puzzled through his words, she slowly realised what he'd meant. And she saw just how much time he'd spent apologizing for leaving the tent that night, even though she hadn't known he had. He'd been apologizing over and over again, and she'd missed it. All of it.

He'd been doing it through his eyes, and every other word he spoke. Whether it was to ask for her beaded bag so he could take a turn washing their clothing, or to be the one to stay up for her night watch when she'd come down with a cough in mid-January...

"I gave you the wrong impression," he said. "I realised that tonight, and I couldn't sleep until I'd made it right with you," and she watched him apologize yet _again_, in the way his eyes softened, holding her gaze. How had she missed it so many times before? How had she been so blind to how much this was killing him, to think that maybe she hadn't... forgiven him?

So that was it, then. He was still making up for his mistakes. How long would he keep trying? How long _would _he have, if she hadn't _ever _figured it out?

"Ron! I... I..." she started, but her eyes filled with tears, and her throat constricted against her words, trapping her between what she needed him to know and the words she needed to say to _make _him know it.

"Oh," she heard him whisper, eyebrows furrowed as he reached a nervous index finger up to brush beneath her eye, removing any traces of her soon-to-fall tears.

"Stop, Ron," she pleaded. "Stop being sorry for everything!"

His expression turned confused and distraught, and she squeezed his wrist suddenly with her left hand, fingers wrapping around skin and bone...

"I don't want you to apologize anymore," she said firmly, growing more aware of their increased proximity as his lips parted, stunned as he stared at her. "You know... you _have _to know that I've forgiven you..."

"I wasn't... really apologizing for _that_..." he said roughly, but she shook her head.

"You were."

Silence engulfed them for a long, heavy moment, and she watched as his eyes crinkled around the edges, almost as if he wanted to smile, to lighten the weight of the room, but he couldn't quite make himself do it.

"We do a lot of..." he gestured vaguely, "saying things in a way that makes it so we don't really have to say anything at all... don't we," and she did smile then, because it was true. Because it was so true, in fact, that it was beautiful. And he'd been the one to say it, which coloured it that much more brilliantly as she considered the changes they could make, right now, if they only chose to make them...

"Yes," she laughed, softening her grip on his wrist until her fingers were resting, quite still, against his skin... "We do." She cleared her throat then and made to pull her hand away, but he grasped it in his own and linked their fingers together, staring down at their joined hands as her heart pounded away again.

"Well, let's stop doing that, shall we?" And at last, the smile he'd been holding back came crawling to the surface. She nodded, feeling light and so very hopeful.

"Okay," she added, unnecessarily.

"I've missed you," he said, cheeks flushed as she watched him trying so very hard not to look shyly away from her.

"You too," she said, awed by his openness. She'd been waiting for this, hadn't she. And now that it was here, it seemed almost surreal...

"I didn't need space, you know," and she wondered, for a split second, what that meant, exactly, and why it was that if he'd not needed to be left alone... well, why he hadn't sought her out before now. "I just... sort of... didn't know what to do."

She nodded, hoping she understood, wondering if he'd say more... But before she had the chance to reply, he leaned sideways, closer, touching his shoulder to hers. She closed her eyes, words knocked too far away from her. She only had to lean a few inches down before her head was resting pleasantly atop his shoulder. She felt his body exhale, and she echoed his breath with a deep, satisfied one of her own.

"You think people are making plans, now that they have a future?" Ron asked, and she opened her eyes as he tilted his head right, to rest the side of his cheek on top of her head.

"Mmm, maybe," she said. "Yes, I think so."

Silence surrounded them again, and she simply closed her eyes once more, comforted by the feel of his breathing, shoulder rising minutely up against her jaw.

"Should _we_?" he finally asked, and her eyes popped open again as he removed his head from hers to look down at her. She lifted her own head from his shoulder to meet his eyes, drawing back a few inches to see him properly.

"We're different," she concluded, because though she'd spent so much time planning her life, she wasn't sure she wanted to have it all figured out, now that she really could. It was odd, to be so carefree. She'd never felt that way before, and she knew... it was him. He was making her free.

"Why?" Ron asked, a lopsided grin spreading across his face.

"I don't think most people wait four years to tell someone that they're in love with them," she breathed, only realising exactly what it was that she'd admitted to when his grin morphed immediately into a shocked, dazed stare. All logical speech was evidently lost to him, and he could do nothing but mutely move his mouth as his eyes widened.

"Oh, come _on_," Hermione breathed, somewhat nervously. "You can't honestly say you didn't already know..."

But when Ron still said nothing, his eyes fixed unblinkingly on Hermione's, her expression turned much less confident.

"Ron," she began in an unsteady voice, "say something. You're making me nervous."

Her eyes parted from his to look anywhere but directly at him. But then, suddenly, he'd dropped her hand, and both of his hands were on her face. She had no time to register what was happening before he'd pulled her towards his own face and his lips had crashed down against hers, his eyes squeezing tightly shut as he pulled her closer still, one of his hands moving around to the back of her head. She let out a surprised squeal into his mouth as her brain caught up to what was happening. She closed her eyes and relaxed into him as his thumb moved gently across her cheek. She moved her hands slowly up his arms to his shoulders, and she tried to melt even closer, wrapping her arms around his neck.

It was much too easy to kiss him. It was like returning to an addiction she'd long ago forgotten... though she'd never had the chance, before a few days ago, to taste it at all to begin with! Her head was spinning with confusing and nearly impossible thoughts... and his lips were way too soft and warm and...

She was getting lost, and when she felt his bottom lip slip between hers, she parted her lips even more, automatically. He groaned out some sort of deep, throaty sound, one she instantly recognized as completely new and completely perfect...

But at last, Ron separated from her just enough to look into her eyes again. But he didn't move his hands from where they rested, one against her cheek and the other buried deep within her hair.

"Blimey," he breathed, looking completely overwhelmed. "I love you."

Hermione's breath hitched in her throat for a moment before she let out a tiny relieved moan.

"Finally," she whispered back.

"Always did, just never bothered telling you about it..."

Their mouths turned up into matching grins as Ron pulled her back to his lips again. He kissed her through his smile and she held onto him tightly, her arms squeezing him to her as close as she could. It somehow wasn't close enough, and she soon found herself parting from him a second time to crawl up into his bed, without asking permission. He smiled and sighed as he followed her, pressing her into the wall with his own body as she turned onto her side, head cushioned by a deliciously Ron-scented feather pillow...

He brushed her hair back from her face and slipped his cheek the inch or two necessary along his pillow to bypass her nose with his and kiss her a third time. No, fourth! She laughed into his mouth as they parted their lips simultaneously, tongues meeting somewhere in the middle. Shocks of pleasure coursed through her, and she worked her bare foot between his legs, closer... closer... until her leg, all the way up to her bare knee, was sandwiched by his own cotton pyjama-clad knees. Her chest was absolutely crushed to the much more firm and solid plain of his. She could feel his heart right against her own, beating just as fast as hers.

When he separated from her again, it was only to rest his forehead against hers, the tip of his cold nose still touching hers. He breathed warmly against her flushed face and she smiled.

"I think we were supposed to talk about a few things," she finally said, softly. She wasn't sure why it was that now, in the midst of the best thing ever, she was bringing this up. Perhaps it seemed that they ought to, before things went too far. Before she got lost.

"Go on," he whispered, breathlessly.

"Well," she tried to continue, but she was finding it incredibly difficult to think straight, the front of her body completely pressed up against his, half of her leg buried between his, and his eyes, blurry this close to her, but still effectively burning through her.

He moved his head an inch against their shared pillow and closed his eyes, and she wasn't sure she could remember seeing him so peaceful. She couldn't bring herself to say anything more, not with his hand sliding slowly down her side to rest at her hip, body heat scorching through her thin top, edging up under the elastic of her pyjama shorts...

"I'm listening," he said, still whispering, reassuringly.

"Maybe we don't have to do this now," she sighed, and he opened his eyes again, moving his head back from her, far enough to see her properly.

"No, it's okay," he said, "I think we should."

She studied his face for another long moment, looking for signs of the boy whose bedside she'd occupied at twelve years old, reprimanding him for nearly getting himself killed... and she grinned. Because as he blinked, sleepily, she could see him so well it was nearly blinding. He hadn't changed so much inside, despite the ways in which he sometimes made her believe that he had. He was still Ron. Still the person she'd unknowingly chosen, from those first moments, to stick by... for the rest of her life. He'd have to tell her to go. He'd have to, if he wanted her to.

"Ron," she managed, after a very long silence that seemed to stretch indefinitely in all directions... "I think this might be your last chance to ditch me."

"What?" His eyes opened wider as he stared at her, confused.

"Once we talk it all through, I'm afraid you might be stuck with me forever," she explained, sucking her bottom lip halfway into her mouth as his legs moved a fraction, rubbing against hers.

"Blimey," he sighed, "well, that might just work out perfectly for me, then."

"How?" she asked, because her heart was suddenly beating painfully once again, and his eyes were darting around, and she had to be sure she really understood what he was saying.

"Because... dunno, you said we're different," he began, licking his lips mesmerizingly before pressing onward... "and I've spent the last several years having dreams about our future house and... one time, yeah, about our kids. Is that mental?"

He blushed deeply, and she was suddenly laughing against him, trying somehow to move closer, though it wasn't strictly possible, given the laws of physics...

She couldn't speak, so she shook her head, tears gathering daringly in the corners of her eyes, a slow grin spreading wider with each breath.

"So," he laughed, eyes lighting up at the sight of her grin, "let's have that talk, shall we? Get it over with so we can..."

"So we can what?" she whispered, noting the way her voice laced across the words as if they held some very obvious meaning that he was clearly going to pick up on.

And through impossibility, he actually _seemed _to understand, because he shivered head to toe, and she was sure she'd felt a light groan vibrating from his chest before he leaned in closer, kissed the corner of her mouth, and backed away again, waiting for words. So many more words. Words that she suddenly wasn't sure were entirely necessary, now that it was time to say them.

"You're waiting for me, aren't you," she sighed, content not to speak at all, now that she was supposed to.

"Reckon so, yeah," he grinned. "You're the one who said we had things to talk about."

"Don't we?" she questioned, so certain that only moments ago she'd felt compelled to bring up all sorts of things which now seemed vague and distant and unimportant.

"Dunno," he laughed, shuffling on top of the quilt and swallowing audibly as her leg worked its way higher up between his, accidentally.

She sighed again, smiling as she closed her eyes. She felt much too warm and happy and finally tired in that satisfying sort of way that made sleep much more appealing than it had since before Ron had run away from them that night, in the woods...

Recalling memories now didn't hurt like they had before. But they were jumbling and swirling into what ifs, creating those half-dreams that always began just before sleep.

"Don't say I didn't try," he whispered, hot breath running through the flyaway hairs of her frizzy fringe, and that was just about all she needed to hear to completely forget words altogether... Just his wonderful voice, against her skin, so close he might as well have been injecting her _veins _with his words.

"Mmm," she grinned, touching her forehead to his again... and falling pleasantly, perfectly, to sleep.


End file.
